Transitions
by singingstarryknights
Summary: He thought he'd lost her. She never realized how much she needed him. GregSara.
1. Chapter 1

Transitions 

"Life is pleasant, death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome." _Isaac Asimov_.

………

It was the saddest thing Greg had ever witnessed.

When shift started, Nick and Sara were laughing, happy. Nick had kissed her goodbye at the end of his shift, and had gone to pick up Lauren from ballet class. He had left the lab after explaining his plans for a movie night with his favorite girl, which had made Sara roll her eyes and push him out of the layout room where she and Greg were processing a double homicide.

They were so happy.

He remembered when Sara had told him that she and Nick were expecting. She had grinned broadly at him, and showed him the sonogram photo, without saying a word. He was glad that she had found a sliver of happiness. He was glad something so wonderful had come out of a night of drowning their sorrows over the single life with Jack Daniels. Greg only regretted that he had not had that night off, that Nick was Lauren's father, not him.

Greg shook his head, disgusted with his train of thought. Sara was happy. She had everything she could ever want. He didn't fit into her life, and he was going to be ok with that. He could settle with being wild and crazy Uncle Greg. He loved Lauren, even if she smiled back at him with Nick's grin, looked at him with Nick's eyes, giggled with him with Nick's laugh. Lauren, as beautiful as she was, was a constant reminder that Greg could never have Sara.

When Sara's phone rang, he didn't think anything of it, probably Nick or Lauren calling to check in.

He had driven her to Desert Palms, there was no way anyone in that lab was going to let her drive herself. The ER nurse who had tracked Sara down had assured her that Lauren was going to be fine, but did not give any specifics on Nick's condition. He had drove calmly, one of them had to be. She had curled up in the passenger seat, grasping his free hand tightly in both of hers in her lap for support.

He watched, now, as she ran the last stretch of hallway, gathering Lauren into her arms. Lauren, who escaped an enraged and jealous husband shooting his wife as she climbed out of her lover's car with a few bruises, still wearing her little pink leotard from ballet. Nick, however, was nowhere to be seen. Greg eased Lauren out of Sara's tight grip, settling her on his hip as a nurse made her way over to them.

"Ms. Sidle? Mr. Stokes has you listed as his emergency contact."

"Yes, that's me." Sara turned from Lauren to the portly nurse.

"Ms. Sidle, Mr. Stokes has sustained a GSW to the chest, he was stabilized by the paramedics who brought him in, but he crashed in the ER. The surgical team on call brought him up to the OR just a few minutes ago."

"Oh god." Sara reached for Greg, holding on to his arm. "Is he going to be alright?"

"We can't be sure." The nurse gave Sara a weary look before addressing Greg. "We'll let you know when Mr. Stokes is in recovery. Lauren here sustained no injuries past a few bruises and bumps." Greg nodded thanks, pressing a kiss to Lauren's head, and had lead Sara to a bench in the OR waiting room.

Nick would never come out of that OR room, the bullet had torn through his vascular artery, and when the surgeons had tried to repair it, they had only succeeded in tearing it further. He had died painlessly and unceremoniously, by a bullet meant for a cheating wife, standing across the street. The doctor had come in to tell them, and by that time, the whole of the night shift was there, with Lauren asleep in one of the chairs.

"Ms. Sidle?" Sara sat up from where she was curled in a ball against Greg, and lifted herself off the bench.

"Nick, how is Nick?" The desperation in her voice got Greg to his feet, ready to catch her when her knees gave way. "Where is he? Can I see him?" The surgeon pursed his lips together, and took a deep breath.

"I and my team did everything in our power to repair the damage to Mr. Stokes' vascular artery, but the tear was too large. There was nothing we could do for him. He died just a few minutes ago. I'm very sorry for your loss-" The rest of the words out of the older man's mouth were just that, words. Sara didn't hear any of them as her knees gave way and Greg's arms caught her, holding her tightly. He stopped listening to the doctor, and turned his attention toward Sara. Her one hundred and fifteen pounds felt heavy suddenly in his arms, and he tightened his grip on her waist. Slowly he watched her gain control of her knees again, and supported her as she stood up on her own. The room was silent, everyone, tears streaming down their faces, waiting for Sara.

Lauren was still asleep.

Sara gripped Greg's shoulder, steadied by his hands on her waist. She stepped out of his grasp, and came to kneel by her daughter. Sara blinked away the tears that were streaming down her cheeks, and reached out to brush away Lauren's bangs out of her eyes. Sara brought a hand to her mouth, closing her eyes in an attempt to compose herself. Greg's heart shattered as he watched Sara brush a finger along the side of her daughter's face. Sara pursed her lips, taking in Lauren's innocent composure, a mirror image of her father's expression in sleep, her soft, stick straight Stokes hair. No one said a word, everyone had turned to watch Sara, including the surgeon.

"Lauren." Sara touched the little girl's arm, trying desperately to keep her tone even. "Lauren, honey." Lauren Stokes shifted slightly, groaning.

"Mumma." Her eyes fluttered open quickly as she remembered where she was. "Mumma?" Lauren sleepily rubbed her eyes, and sat up. "Where's Daddy?" Sara pressed a kiss to Lauren's disheveled hair, and laid a hand to the side of her face. Panic flashed through Lauren's dark brown Stokes eyes. Lauren watched her mother's lip quiver, and when she looked back at Sara, she knew where Nick was.

"Lauren, I-"

"Daddy." Lauren blinked the tears that had gathered in her eyes, speaking in a shaky voice. "Daddy's not here anymore." Sara collapsed, crying into Lauren's lap. Lauren stroked Sara's hair gently, sobbing herself. Greg tore his eyes away from mother and daughter, to see Catherine clinging to Warrick, whose shoulders shook gently. Grissom's eyes were red as he talked on his phone to who Greg imagined was one of Nick's parents. Brass was seated in one of the chairs, head in his hands, breathing slowly. The surgeon had backed out a few moments ago, and suddenly Greg felt alone. The sense that Nick would enter the room any second seared through him, but Greg shook it off, wiping his eyes. His gaze found Lauren, who had raised her head, and had scanned the room, stopping at him.

"Uncle Greg." Her voice came out as a whisper, and he was pulled out of his thoughts by it. Lauren bent and kissed her mother's curls, then reached up, extending her arms as if to ask Greg to pick her up. Greg closed the distance between himself and Lauren, and gently lifted her from the chair, as Sara sat back on her heels, tears still streaming down her cheeks. Lauren Stokes wrapped her arms tightly around Greg's neck, and her legs around Greg's waist. Greg held her tightly, rubbing his hand up and down the back of her pale pink leotard she was still wearing soothingly. A nurse quietly entered the room behind Greg, and he turned to face the door.

"Mrs. Stokes?" Sara stood, taking Warrick's hand when he offered it to pull herself to her feet. She choked back a sob, and wiped her eyes quickly.

"That's me. I would have been." Sara spoke quietly, turning to look at the nurse for the first time.

"Dr. Harris said you would want to see Mr. Stokes." Sara nodded, and glanced at Greg. Lauren lifted her head from Greg's shoulder, and wiped her eyes.

"Mumma? Tell Daddy I love him." Lauren's little voice hitched, and she buried her face in Greg's shoulder, quiet sobs racking her slight little frame. Greg paid little attention to the others in the room, concentrating on soothing Lauren gently. He ducked out of the waiting room, opting instead for pacing up and down the corridor, waiting for Sara to return.

Sara. His first instinct was to go with her, catch her when she collapsed in grief. But Lauren had reached out for him, and the last thing he wanted to go was intrude on Nick and Sara's last private moments. He pressed a kiss to Lauren's hair, tightening his grasp on her as she tightened her hold around his neck, matting the shoulder of his tee shirt down with her tears. Through a window on one side of the hallway, he could see inside the waiting room. Warrick sat on the edge of the couch, head in his hands, shoulder's shaking with every tear the man shed, Catherine beside him. Greg turned away from the window before anyone saw him, and wandered a ways down the hall, coming to stand at the swinging doors that separated the OR from the corridor. On the other side of that door, the love of his life was grieving over the love of hers, alone.

………

A/N: more to come… will eventually be SaraGreg, I promise. Exploring Nicky in an unconventional manner… sorry about killing him off


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: sorry about Nick.. I hate myself, but it had to be done.

………

it's just the car that we ride in

a home we reside in

the face that we hide in

the way we are tied in

and life carries on and on and on and on

life carries on and on and on

-Peter Gabriel

………

Sara made her way down the hallway, pushing through the heavy swinging door of the OR corridor, falling behind in pace with the nurse who had come to retrieve her. The portly woman entered the OR, only to pull the door shut, sealing its contents from the distraught woman making her way down the hallway. She watched Sara closely, her heart breaking as the younger woman steeled herself, drifting away from the wall she had been halfway leaning on for support.

"They've put him in here, until someone from downstairs can get him." Sara nodded quietly, wrapping an arm around her stomach, sifting fingers through her wild curls. Sara stopped a few feet short of the door, ignoring the concerned looks from the nurse. She closed her eyes, collecting herself before inhaling and exhaling deeply.

"There'll be tubes and-"

"I know." Sara lowered her gaze to the sterile white floor, unable to look at the older nurse, who was holding the door to a small room off the side of the recovery room open. "Did he." She couldn't bring herself to finish.

"Not greatly. They started an IV in the ambulance, he was coherent until he crashed in the ER. Was comforting your daughter, is what the EMTs said." The older woman placed a hand on Sara's shoulder to steady her. "Maybe this isn't a good idea."

"No. I. I want to see him." The nurse nodded, and silently stepped back, allowing Sara passage into the side room. Fresh tears welled in her eyes at the sight before her, blurring her vision, but not enough to alter the reality. She heard the soft click of the door shutting behind her, and suddenly she was alone. "Oh, Nicky." Not an hour and a half ago had she pushed him out of the layout room, so she could get work done.

She slowly made her way to the gurney, stopping when she was inches from its crisp white sheets, dotted with a cryptic message of Morse code spattered in his blood. She tentatively reached out, running a finger along the muscles in his forearm, now still. She dropped her fingers to his hand, taking it gently in both of hers, preserving the precious body heat that was leaving his body almost as fast as his soul. Body heat she would never feel beside her in the middle of the night, muscles that would never flex in a desperate attempt to get away from her as she tickled him. Rigor mortis was far from setting in, she curled his fingers around her own, before reaching up and running a hand through his hair. She laid her palm softly against his cheek, tracing the laugh lines by his eyes ever so delicately with her finger.

"Nick." She squeezed his hand, finding only heavy weight instead of a squeeze back. "Nick, don't leave me." Her plea tumbled off her lip in a whisper, but it echoed off the walls in the side room. She didn't bother wiping the tears from her eyes, and they fell from her cheeks, littering his arm with droplets. "What do I tell Lauren?" She burst into sobs, holding firmly on to his fingers, already cooling to the touch, and pressed a teary kiss to the back of his hand. "Come back to me."

She sat on the stool by the gurney, folding her arms around his hand, and resting her head atop his arm, staring up at his face from his side. She had held this sort of vigil over her father's body, silently pleading him to come back, wishing for him to open his eyes. It was different now, Nick was a better man than her father had ever been, but she had had twenty years to dwell on his faults. Nick was the perfect father, the perfect would-be husband. He had been so happy about Lauren, even when Sara had spent days crying herself to sleep over the pregnancy.

"_I have to talk to you."_

"_You can always talk to me."_

"_About the other night-"_

"_Oh. Yeah. Listen, I'm really sorry, I-"_

"_I'm pregnant."_

"_What?"_

"_We're, I'm. Pregnant. I'm pregnant."_

"_Sara-"_

"_I understand, if you don't- I mean, it was only a one-time thing."_

"_A baby, in here?" Nick's whole face lit up, his smile broadened, as he touched her for the first time since their debauchery with Jack Daniels. "Really?" His excitement made her smile, and he pulled her into a tight hug just as her tears began to fall._

She would never forget the feeling of his warm, calloused palm against her stomach, or how he had kissed her and told her it was going to be okay, held her tightly as she cried, smiled softly at her and had shown her how happy he really was. They never got around to getting married, although she figured his mother had something up her sleeve for their next trip to Dallas, which, incidentally, was only six weeks away. She shifted, pressing her lips against his wrist as she cast her gaze to the lower half of his body. He must have crashed suddenly, they hadn't even bothered cutting away his jeans, untying his shoes.

The coroner's assistant found her there, on assignment to retrieve Body Number 967, Nicholas Andrew Stokes. He didn't expect to find who he assumed was Mrs. Stokes crying softly into Mr. Stokes' side. Deciding not to intrude on her goodbyes, he made his way down the corridor, to the waiting room on the other side of the doors.

Greg held a now-sleeping Lauren Stokes in his arms, the child had sobbed herself exhausted, and had fallen asleep against his shoulder. He continued to rock her gently as he paced up and down the hallway. He turned at the noise of the heavy door swinging open, and felt a pang of disappointment that it was a hospital worker, and not Sara. She had been gone a good chunk of time, and he had begun to worry about her, alone beyond those doors.

"You with Nicholas Stokes?" The hospital worker had come closer, and Greg could see that he worked for the coroner, and had probably been sent to retrieve Nick's body from the OR.

"Yeah." Greg tightened his grip on Lauren, careful not to wake her from her restless sleep. "My, my friend Sara, she-"

"I need to- I don't want to disturb his wife. Can you help me?"

"Of course. Hold on. A second." Greg inhaled deeply, entering the waiting room and walking over to Warrick, whose head still hung in his hands, tears sliding silently down his cheeks in a leisurely procession. "Warrick." Greg waited for the older man to look up at him before he handed him the sleeping little girl. "I have to- Sara." Warrick nodded, cradling Lauren in his arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she snuggled into him. Greg left them there, and silently made his way to the hall.

"It's just this way." The coroner's assistant gestured for Greg to follow him, and Greg passed through the heavy doors on the man's heels. He led Greg a ways down the hall, stopping at a door leading to a small room. Greg pushed past the man, swinging open the door slowly. Sara sat crouched over Nick's side, her slender shoulders shaking gently with every silent tear. Greg blinked back his own tears, trying not to think of his friend and co-worker lying motionless on the gurney. He had to concentrate of Sara. Be strong for Sara. Worry about Sara. Grieving for Nick would come later. With that, he closed the distance between them, and gathered her slim frame into his arms, gently prying her from Nick.

Sara wasn't aware of whose hands were on her shoulders, and she let herself be pulled away from Nick's side, her fingers remaining tightly woven with Nick's.

"No." Sara's voice hitched in her throat, pleading softly, and Greg blinked away the tears that were blurring his vision. He leaned over, gently prying Nick's cooling fingers from Sara's grasp, and lay Nick's hand beside his hip on the crisp white linens.

"It's okay, Sara. I've got you." He whispered against her curls, but she fought against his arms, trying to pry herself from his grip.

"No, please, Nick. I can't leave him." Greg tightened his grip around her waist, and led her out of the room, leaving Nick's body in the care of the coroner's assistant. To the other man's credit, he waited until Greg had coaxed Sara to the other side of the heavy door to the other hallway before he rolled Nick out to the corridor and towards the elevator.

…………

Greg pulled into the driveway of Nick and Sara's house, turning the Denali off, and glancing a look at the woman beside him. Lauren, safely buckled in the backseat, was the first to speak, breaking Greg's train of thought.

"Uncle Greg, can you stay?" Greg turned his attention toward the backseat, meeting Lauren's tearstained gaze.

"Let's get Mumma into the house, okay, baby?" Lauren nodded, unbuckling herself and waiting for Greg to open her door before climbing out. Greg shut the backdoor of the Denali, and caught up to Lauren, who was waiting patiently for her mother to climb out of the front seat. Greg opened Sara's door wider, and held out a hand to his longtime friend. Sara had walled herself off from emotions, determined not to let her daughter see her a mess. Sara gripped Greg's arm for support, making her way up the walkway to the house that she had moved into almost six years ago, at Nick's nagging, after she had told him they were pregnant.

_"Just move in."_

_"What?"_

_"Move in here with me."_

_"Nick, I-"_

_"I want to be a family, Sara, I want this baby, I want you in my life."_

Sara shuddered at the memory, and fumbled with Greg's keys for the spare they had given him to their front door. They were alone now, her and Lauren, he had left them all alone, in this little house that seemed so empty, so sad. Lauren leaned on Greg, and he picked her up effortlessly, as Sara pushed the key in the lock, and turned the handle. The Nevada sun was setting in a menagerie of reds and purples behind them, the lamp in the window that Nick had set on a timer clicked on.

"You okay, Sara?" Greg's soft whisper was right at her ear, and she turned to him and gave him the faintest hint of a weary smile. No, She's not okay. Nick is lying in a morgue, Lauren is traumatized, the life that they so carefully constructed out of accident has crumbled in hours out of accident again.

"Lauren needs to change out of her ballet clothes." Sara tried to smile at her daughter, and failed miserably.

Greg knew walking into the house would only put Sara into near hysterics, the house had been Nick's before Lauren, he was everywhere still. Sara, even after nearly six years of living here, had not rid the house entirely of his bachelor things. What he was not expecting, was Nick's high school baseball sweatshirt to be thrown haphazardly over the back of the couch, or a half empty glass of iced tea on the kitchen counter, or a laundry list of things to do over their day off, written in Nick's lazy scrawl. He blinked back tears that had threatened to fall, and set Lauren down.

"Go change out of your leotard, baby." Lauren nodded, and made her way down the hall, running her little fingers along the wall in the hallway, disappearing around the corner. Greg watched her go, and turned to Sara, who was standing in the middle of the entranceway, hand over her mouth, trying to keep herself together.

"I'm sorry, I." Her voice hitched and she let her gaze land on Nick's running sneakers by the door. "I didn't think about all of this, all of _him_. Everywhere." She choked back a sob, and Greg gathered her in his arms, rocking her slowly as she tried not to cry into his shoulder. He stroked her curls ever so gently, rubbing a soothing hand along her back, whispering calming words of reassurance into the crook of her neck. He let her cry softly for a few minutes, desperately trying to hang on to his stoic composure, trying to be strong for her. She pulled back after a few minutes had passed, and wiped her eyes childishly. "I should call Nick's parents."

"Grissom called them, they're on their way." She nodded, breaking away from him fully, and reaching for Nick's sweatshirt on the couch. He didn't bother wiping away the drops that rolled down his features, as he watched her touch the worn and faded fabric of the sweatshirt, turning it over in her hands.

"I was so selfish, thinking this fairytale could have gone on."

"Sara-"

"No, I just," She sank into the couch, burying her tears in Nick's sweatshirt. "This is all so sudden." She hung her head in her hands, tears dripping to the carpet. Greg sat down beside her, pulling her sobbing body to his, holding her against him comfortingly. "I've never dealt well with his family, they're so big, there are so many of them. I-I never left Nick's side whenever we went down there. They're going to blame me. If I hadn't enrolled Lauren into ballet, Nick would have been processing that scene, not be a part of the evidence."

"No one blames you, it was an accident." Greg pressed a kiss to her hair, sighing away his own tears. "Accidents happen, Sara."

"Don't I know it."

"Mumma?" Sara climbed out of Greg's soothing hold to face her daughter, holding her hands out to the little girl. Lauren scrambled into Sara's lap, wearing one of Nick's tee shirts and a pair of shorts. Sara rocked her daughter, holding her tightly against her slight frame. "I want Daddy, Mumma."

Lauren's whispers broke Greg's heart, and he did nothing to stop the tears from streaming down his cheeks, holding Sara's hand when she reached out to him in grief.

………

A/N: I officially hate myself for killing my favorite character… more to come. Lots more, actually. Let me know what you think, I'm wading in uncharted waters, for me at least.


	3. Chapter 3

The next few days were a blur to Greg. Nick's parents had come, Grissom had offered to pick them up from the airport, for which Sara was thankful. Greg's heart shattered all over again when he realized that Sara was right, Nick's parents blamed her, in the blind of their angry grief. Each night he left Nick and Sara's house long after Lauren had fallen asleep, drawing the covers carefully around Sara's weary, grieving body, tucked lovingly and safely into the bed she had shared with Nick before making his way home to his empty apartment, falling over in exhaustion into his own empty bed, grieving for the loss of his friend and the pain if had caused Sara.

He and Warrick had fallen into a similar routine, only Warrick had been going home to Catherine's, curling up to her restless body and pulling her close. They had both sought out comfort in each other, and for it, they seemed to be fairing somewhat better than himself. Every night he left Sara, in her fitful troubled sleep, he knew that, unlike Warrick, he would be curling up to empty space, his own mourning gone uncomforted. Greg was okay with that, as long as Sara and Lauren were alright. Most days they were.

He was the one she clung to at Nick's funeral, and he forgot his own grief, instead she leaned on him, and he held her tightly, keeping her from falling. They had all filed in, this church in Laughlin with a plain front, that every time Nick drove by it, he would comment to Sara about how much it looked like the church he used to go to growing up in Dallas. Greg didn't listen to Nick's brother Tom as he spoke about his brother, or to any of the readings. He focused all his energy on supporting Sara, her weight, her tears, her love for his friend. Nick's father had held Lauren, but partway through the service, squirmed out of her grandfather's arms, and made her way to Warrick, who picked her up and hugged her almost as tightly as she hugged him, saturating his shirt with her tiny tears.

At the cemetery, Sara had no tears left. She had built up the walls around her heart with the strongest brick and mortar, closing herself off, void of any outward emotion. She was the last to leave him, still standing a few feet away from the casket. He stood a few yards behind her, remaining in the spot where she has left his embrace. He wasn't sure his heart could take more fracturing, but his tears finally surfaced, for mere moments, as Sara ran her hand along a portion of the casket, and then bent, pressing a kiss to its cool metal surface. He shoved his hands in his pockets, lowering his gaze to the ground as she straightened, and her whispers were carried with the gentle breeze. She took a deep breath, and turned reluctantly from the casket, making her way back to where Greg waited for her. He held out his hand to her, and she took it, gripping his fingers tightly, brushing away her tears roughly.

The reception after the service and the service at the cemetery was held at Nick and Sara's house, but Sara became overwhelmed with Nick's family quickly, and sought refuge in the kitchen, where most of their colleagues had the same idea, with the same conclusion. Grissom completed the thank-you rounds for Sara, who shied away from the plethora of hysterical Stokes women in the living room. Warrick went with him; Lauren still wouldn't let him go. Greg suspected that the little girl thought that if she did, Warrick would go away just like Nick.

Greg kept close to Sara, never straying more than an arm's length at most. She had found comfort in his consideration, and often found herself reaching out, her fingers finding his arm, or his hand. She was grateful of the support he so selflessly gave her, never shedding more than a few tears in front of her. Their wordless understanding of each other transcended the crime scenes they worked, and Greg was comforted in turn by Sara's acceptance of his help. When she straightened herself, from leaning against the counter, and slipped away, out the backdoor to the tiny porch, he waited a few moments before following her.

Sara had always found peace out on their porch, and there were suddenly too many people and not enough space in the house for her liking. She was angry, mostly. Angry at herself for enrolling Lauren in ballet, angry at the jealous husband for choosing a floozy of a wife, angry at Nick for giving up so easily, slipping away from her so quickly, without any goodbye. Mostly, angry at Nick's parents, for not honoring their son's wishes, and placing him in a casket, underground, instead, dooming the love of her life to relive his nightmares, even in death.

She took deep breaths of the fresh Nevada air, gusting through on a soft breeze that sent a shiver up her spine. Nick's high school varsity baseball sweatshirt flopped down at her elbow, and she shifted her gaze to her left, as Greg came to stand beside her, leaning on the railing, and scanning their backyard. She picked up Nick's sweatshirt, and pulled it on, over her head, warming instantly thanks to the gentle shield against the wind.

"Thought you might be cold."

"Thanks."

They stood there in comfortable silence for several minutes, Sara snuggling into Nick's sweatshirt, Greg analyzing every child-centered item in the backyard.

"Lauren seems to be doing alright today."

"Yeah, she slept through the night last night. It was the first time she didn't come running into our room, looking for Nick." Sara's eyes welled with tears again instantly. Not their room. Her room. She coughed, wiping the tears away quickly, turning to face him.

"Greg?"

"Mmhmm."

"You haven't cried, are you alright?" Sara pursed her lips, considering her friend with a worried expression. Greg sighed, finally turning to face her.

"Yeah, I'm doing okay. Someone's got to catch you, Sara, you need me more than I need to grieve. It's on my list of things to do, after making sure you're alright. I get a little bit done every night, after I've tucked you in, checked on Lauren, and gone home. I cried, Sara, but catching you is more important than crying for Nick."

"Greg, I didn't know."

"I can't help Nick, but I can help you." Greg turned back to his inventory of the Sidle-Stokes backyard.

"Thank you." Her voice was a whisper, hoarse from tears, weary from trauma. He nodded, turning only to press a kiss to her curly mass of hair before sweeping his gaze back over the swing set he had helped Nick construct a few months ago.

"_I was thinking about a swing set."_

"_That's lovely, think on that all you want."_

"_G, are you going to help me or not, man?"_

"_Yeah, I'm in."_

"_Thanks, man, Mum's the word, it's a surprise for Lauren's birthday."_

"_Jesus, Nick, I'm shit at secrets."_

"_Try really hard on this one, Greggo, its really important."_

"I will always catch you, Sara. I will never let you fall. That I promise. And we can stay out here as long as you want. Nick's family is overwhelming for all of us." His gaze remained outward, and he missed the faintest hints of a trace of a smile twitching at Sara's lip. With time, that faintest hint would broaden to a grin, but for now, it was just a faintest hint.

………

A/N: I have some direction, and I'm really excited about this… the focus is going to shift to the healing process, and the help Greg is offering, and Sara trusting him enough to take it willingly.


	4. Chapter 4

"There could never be a father who loved his daughter more than I love you."

-Paul Simon

……...

Nick's family filtered out eventually, so did the night shift, to their hotels and homes respectively, leaving Sara alone in the empty house. Greg went to check on Lauren, who Warrick had put to bed an hour or so before. Sara sank into Nick's favorite chair, and curled up in Nick's sweatshirt, wiping away the tears from her eyes with the sleeve.

Greg cracked open the door to Lauren's room, and leaned against the doorjamb, watching her little chest rise and fall. This was all a lot to take for a five year old, but she seemed to be holding up better than he expected. Lauren shifted, squinting towards the soft light of the hallway.

"Dad?" Her sleep-logged voice came out as a whisper, sounding just like Sara.

"No, baby, it's Uncle Greg." Greg opened the door wider, and stepped into her bedroom, and waded through the scattered toys on the floor, sitting down on the side of her bed. "I was just making sure you were asleep."

"Did Grammy and Grampsy leave?"

"Yeah, they said they'd be back tomorrow."

"Daddy's family is really big."

"You did well, with your Grammy and Grampsy." Lauren shifted again, facing Greg.

"Grampsy said that 'we can put them boots in the oven all we want, but that don't make them biscuits.' What does that mean?" Greg smiled softly, for the first time in days.

"I think Grampsy just meant that we can talk all we want about what happened to your Dad, but nothing we say is going to bring him back. We have to accept it, even though it really hurts."

"I miss Dad."

"I know, baby. But your Dad will always be with you, he's a part of who you are."

"How, Uncle Greg?" Lauren sat up, a questioning stare that looked just like Nick's. Greg gave her a small smile, and brushed her bangs out of her eyes.

"Every person has something inside them, and everyone's is different. It's called DNA. You have DNA inside you, and I have DNA inside me. But our DNA is different, because we have different parents. DNA is a present we get from our Mom and our Dad, half of our DNA is from your Mom, and half of your DNA is from your Dad."

"My Dad is in me?"

"Absolutely. And try as you might, you will never be able to get rid of him. He's in you forever. A person's DNA tells us who they are, that's how we catch bad guys at the lab. But DNA tells you who you are even if you aren't a bad guy."

"So half of me is from my Mom, and half of me is from my Dad?"

"Pretty much."

"Can I see my DNA?" Lauren turned her attention to her hands, turning them over in examination. "Where is my Dad?"

"I'll show you." Greg leaned over to Lauren's nightstand, and took the picture of Nick and Sara, showing it to Lauren. "Some people show more DNA of one parent than the other. I look like my mother, but you, Lauren, you look like Nick." Lauren took the photograph of her parents and held it in her hands, as Greg reached over and clicked on the tiny lamp, casting gentle light on Sara's daughter. He reached over into the drawer of the nightstand, and extracted a play mirror, handing that to Lauren as well.

"I can't see him."

"Look at the pieces, not at the whole. Let's start with the hair. Look at Dad's hair, and look at Mom's hair. Whose hair looks like yours?" Lauren squinted at the photo, and squinted at the mirror.

"Mumma's hair is curly. Daddy and me have straight hair."

"It's the same color too. So, there's your Dad, right there." Greg pointed to Lauren's hair, and she smiled. "What else about your Dad do you see?" Lauren turned her attention to the photo again, concentrating hard.

"Mumma said once that I smile like Daddy."

"Well, you may not feel like smiling now, because you feel sad, but, when you do smile again, really smile, nice and big, and for real, your Dad will be there, smiling too, because he gave you his smile."

"In his DNA."

"Exactly." Greg smiled faintly at Lauren, and leaned over to press a kiss to her forehead. "When you feel like you're ready to smile, I think you should smile a lot, your Dad wouldn't want you to be sad. And your Mom, she would appreciate it, because every time she sees you, she sees your Dad as well, and she loved your Dad's smile."

"I can help Mumma, help her not to be sad anymore."

"Only you can do it, Lauren, only you can smile like your Dad."

"I'm glad I look like Daddy."

"Me too, baby, me too." Greg adjusted the covers, letting Lauren settle down in the bedding. Greg safely tucked her in, and kissed her forehead, before turning off the lamp, and making his way to the doorway. "Sleep well, baby."

"G'night, Uncle Greg." Greg closed the door to Lauren's bedroom silently, and made his way down the stairs to the living room, intent of getting Sara to bed as well.

He paused at the stream of photos lining the wall of the stairs. The were mostly of Lauren, Lauren as a baby, Lauren in Texas, a few of Lauren at the ocean that time they had taken her to see Sara's mom at the penitentiary in San Francisco, a few months after she was born. In each, Nick was standing at the water's edge, his jeans rolled up to his calves, holding Lauren above his head, holding her against his chest, pointing at something out of the shot, and dipping her tiny feet into the gentle Pacific waves. He remembered when they had taken that trip, over a weekend, stopping by the prison to see Sara's mom, then spending the evening with Sara's brother and his wife, taking Lauren to the ocean, and then heading back to Vegas. Sara had come into shift on that Monday relaxed and happy, having made peace with her mother, and her brother.

Greg took a deep breath, shaking off the tears that had fallen from his eyes. He had to take care of Sara first. He made his way down the stairs, and passed by the living room, where Sara sat curled up in Nick's chair. He went straight to the kitchen, pouring fresh water into the kettle, and rummaging through the cabinets for the chamomile tea that would settle his distraught friend's nerves. Placing the tea bag in a large mug, he waited a few moments for the kettle to sing, taking it off the burner and pouring the heated water over the tea bag. He mixed in a spoonful of honey, to soothe her throat, and flicked off the burner, taking the mug of tea into the living room.

Sara looked up to see Greg come into view, and accepted the warm mug he gave her. He reached behind her, and retrieved a throw blanket, the Houston Astros fleece that Lauren had given him for his birthday last year. He wrapped it around her, and sat on the couch, a few feet away.

"Lauren woke up, but I tucked her back in, she's asleep."

"Thanks." Sara took a sip of the warm tea, and closed her eyes, letting the sweet liquid fall down her throat, and warm her stomach. She had been queasy al day, but had chalked it up to the funeral, and leaving Nick at the cemetery. She was exhausted, she hadn't slept a full night since the shooting, and last night she jolted awake, reaching for Nick, and all she touched was cool, empty sheets, fading quickly of Nick's scent.

That was what had her break down every time she entered a room. She smelled him everywhere. In their bedroom, she smelled his shampoo on his pillow, his deodorant, and his soap in the bathroom. In the kitchen, she smelled the leftovers from his cooking, still in the tuppeware container in the fridge. There was the hamper of dirty clothes in the laundry room, the air freshener he had picked up for the mudroom. He was everywhere, but he was nowhere, she was chasing a ghost. She curled up to his baby blanket, the faded blue soft mass he affectionately called his "woobie" each and every night, soaking it with her tears. No one had touched his running sneakers, still caked with mud, now dry, laying where he threw them in the entryway. She hadn't touched any of his clothing, leaving it haphazardly strewn about the bedroom. His jacket still hung in the hall, his toothbrush still sat on the edge of the sink.

His half empty glass of iced tea still sat on the kitchen counter, waiting to be finished.

"I can't do this forever." Sara mumbled into the mug, taking another soothing swallow of tea. "He's everywhere."

"Sara, he wouldn't want you to wallow."

"I'm not wallowing. Much." She raised her gaze to him, considering his tired features from her nest of the fleece throw and Nick's sweatshirt. "Greg."

"Mmhmm." He leaned on his elbow, matching her gaze. She had a request on the tip of her tongue, and he could see her shifting with the insecurity of asking him. "What is it, Sara."

"I, um. Could you. Could you put Nick's glass in the dishwasher?" Her request came out as a whisper, her voice hoarse yet again. He sat up, leaning forward on his knees, looking her over with a critical eye, analyzing her wearily.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm ready. To run the dishwasher. I think I can do that." She paused, carefully untangling herself from the throw blanket, and pushed it aside, unfolding herself from the chair. She closed the distance between them, and holding out a hand to him. "I could use the moral support." He tried to smile, failing in reassuring her. He took her hand, squeezing her fingers, as she made her way to the kitchen, coming to stand in front of the counter, square with the dirty glass.

"It won't bite."

"Am I a horrible person? I mean, Nick's practically still warm in the ground," her voice cracked, and she gripped the side of the counter. "And here I am erasing him from our home." Greg moved to embrace her, and she let him, gathering her composure in his arms, turning away from him with a determined expression on her features.

"I can do it, if you want." She reached out, touching the smooth side of the glass almost lovingly, before pulling her hand away.

"Please." She covered her mouth with her hands, choking back a sob, as Greg picked up Nick's glass, and emptied its contents into the sink, rinsed it out with water from the tap, and pulled open the dishwasher, placing it on the top rack. He closed the dishwasher, taking Sara's hand as she reached out for him.

"You alright?" he stepped closer to her, placing a steady hand on her waist.

"Yeah. Got to start somewhere, right?"

………

Sara was doing alright, and with Greg's gentle support, was able to do a few loads of laundry, with a few of Nick's shirts and a couple of socks, among hers and Lauren's things. He cleaned out the tuppeware containers in the fridge, and ran the dishwasher a few more times in a few more days. She had moved his toothbrush from the edge of the sink to its holder, and had capped his shower stuff, and put them in a small cardboard box under the sink. In time, she would move them out of the bathroom, but not yet.

She was fine, almost, even putting away the folded laundry a week after Nick's funeral. She placed Lauren's clothes in her dresser first, taking care to pair up her socks like Nick used to, folding one sock over the other. She took the laundry basket to their room next, separating out Nick's clothes from hers, putting hers away before dealing with his. She pulled out Nick's sock drawer, and was pushing over his clean sock to make room for the freshly laundered ones when her fingers hit something hard. She set down the clean socks in her arms, and rummaged through his drawer, tossing the others into a pile on the bed, before she uncovered a small velvet box at the bottom of the drawer.

Sara glanced around, half expecting Nick to come flying into the bedroom, catching her in the act. She sighed heavily, remembering that he was not going to catch her, she could rummage through his things all she wanted, it wasn't going to make him return. She held the tiny box delicately in her hands, laying a finger on the edge, prying it open.

She gasped, nestled inside the box, carefully placed, was a silver band with a single, shimmering diamond, sandwiched between a tiny Peridot stone, and a tiny Sapphire stone. His birthstone, and hers, hugged by the delicate silver setting. His mom hadn't had anything in mind for their trip to Dallas, it was Nick who was planning on proposing. She had been good, she hadn't cried until that moment, all day. But this find threw her for an unexpected loop, and her eyes welled up with tears, quickly blurring her vision. She choked back a sob, wiping the tears from her cheeks, quickly shutting the tiny box. She left the dresser, sitting down on the edge of the bed before her knees gave way from underneath her. Downstairs, the phone rang, and was picked up, but she didn't pay attention, focusing instead on the tiny velvet box cradled in her hands.

"Hey, Sara, that was Catherine, everyone's going to her house for dinner, she wanted to know if we wanted to come, I told her that'd be great." Greg popped his head in the door, his expression crumbling into worry as soon as he saw her. "Sara, what's wrong?" Sara looked over at her friend, not bothering to wipe away her tears. Greg entered the room, coming to sit beside her, pulling her into a hug, pressing a kiss to her hair, and holding her weight tightly against him.

"I, um. Dinner at Cath's is fine. Lauren will be glad to see Lindsey." He pulled away only just, his face inches from hers.

"What happened, Sara, you haven't cried all day." His heart broke again, as he watched her shake her head, dismissing his concerns, wiping her tears.

"It's nothing."

"Don't shut me out, Sara." He ran his hand soothingly over her back, and she sighed, trying to compose herself. She smiled sadly, and held out the velvet box.

"I'm sorry." She let out a sad little laugh, wiping her tears against Greg's shoulder. "I finally get the courage to do laundry, and I stumble across Nick's hiding spot. Apparently hidden treasure keeps best in the sock drawer." She handed him the box, and he took it, releasing her shoulders, to cradle the box in his hands. He knew what she had found instantly. The engagement ring Nick had bought last month. He had told Greg all about it on the way to a scene in Henderson a few months back.

"_I'm going to ask Sara to marry me."_

"_Bout fucking time, man, Lauren is almost five."_

"_Yeah, yeah. I picked out this amazing ring, I'm going to ask her when we go to Dallas in a few months."_

"_So, 24-hour drive through?"_

"_Nah, called my mom a few days ago, she talked to the reverend at her church, he said he'd officiate if she says yes."_

"_You're going to get married in Texas?"_

"_Pending she'll have me."_

"_Nick, you guys are practically married anyway. Her daughter's last name is Stokes. I'm going to put my money on her saying yes."_

"_That's good to know, G, I'm nervous about it, and I sleep beside her each and every night."_

Greg opened the box silently, taken aback by the diamond sandwiched by the August and September birthstones. The silver band shone back at him, with the dull shine of a handcrafted metal.

"Nick talked about it a few months ago, that he'd found the perfect ring, that he wanted to ask you to marry him in Texas."

"Really?" Sara leaned on him, looking at the ring over his shoulder.

"Yeah, he had it all planned out, he wanted to marry you down there, while you were there with his family, and then have a party here when you got back." Greg handed her the open box, and she took it, plucking the ring out from its nest, and held it out in front of her.

"That would have been more perfect than my wildest dreams." Sara sighed, slipping the ring over her knuckle, tearing again when she realized he had pegged her size exactly, before slipping it back off. "He never said a word to me about marriage, ever. We never talked about it, ever. Not once."

"He'd been planning this for a few months, that he let us know about. Who knows how long he'd been thinking about it before he acted."

"What should I do with it?" she held the engagement ring in her palm, inches away form her nose as she leaned on her knees. Greg rubbed her back in a soothing motion, sighing.

"I don't know, Sara. But I do know, he meant for you to wear it." Greg offered her a sad smile, and she nodded, standing to rummage through her tiny jewelry box, and extracting a delicate silver chain.

"I don't know if I can wear it on my finger, he didn't actually put it there." She strung the ring onto the chain, and clasped it around her neck, tucking it underneath her tee shirt. Greg rubbed his hands over his face as she took the velvet box from him, and closed it, placing it where she found it at the bottom of Nick's sock drawer.

"Mumma?" Both Greg and Sara turned toward Lauren, standing at the door. "Don't be sad Mumma." Lauren climbed into Greg's lap, and Sara sat down beside him, her attention on her daughter.

"I'm trying, baby." Lauren frowned at her mother, reaching up and pushing a stray curl away from her face.

"What's the matter, Mumma?" Sara's eye flicked to Greg, searching briefly for reassurance, and, finding it, returned her gaze to the five-year-old replica of Nick Stokes sitting in his lap.

"I'm just scared, Lauren. I'm scared to be without Daddy."

"Daddy said not to be scared." Lauren stated, matter-of-factly. Sara peered questioningly at the little girl.

"When did Daddy say that, honey?"

"When we were going to the hospital. I was scared, and Daddy pushed the doctors away, and held my hand, and told me not to be scared, he was right there, and he wouldn't ever let anything happen to me. When we got to the hospital, Daddy told me he loved me, and not to be afraid, you and Uncle Greg were going to come for me, and everything was going to be okay." Lauren sighed, blowing her bangs out from her eyes, and leaned against Greg's chest, holding his arm tightly. "Don't be afraid, Mumma, Daddy wouldn't want that." Sara kissed Lauren's little hand, and gave her a weary attempt at a smile.

"No he wouldn't. When did you get so smart, baby?" Lauren rolled her eyes at her mother, making Sara smile, and glanced at Greg.

"From Daddy. Uncle Greg said I have his DNA. That means part of Daddy is in me, all jumbled up with part of you. Daddy was smart, so I am too." Lauren climbed out of Greg's lap, and wrapped her little arms around Sara's neck. "Don't be sad Mumma, Daddy's a part of you, too, even without DNA."

And finally, Sara laughed.

…………

A/N: please with where this is going.. sorry it took me all damn day to find the right words. Thanks for reading.


	5. Chapter 5

Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens.

JRR Tolkien

…

The idea of going back to work seemed to be a bittersweet phenomena for Sara. She had taken five extra days than the rest of the graveyard shift, working out paperwork, settling Lauren into a semi-regulatory routine. She came into work one day after dropping Lauren off at kindergarten, to clean out Nick's locker. Grissom had told her that she didn't have to do it, but she insisted, taking the cardboard box he offered her. Grissom started to go after her, but Greg cut him off, gesturing that he would take care of it, following her into the locker room.

Sara paused by Nick's locker, running her hand along the smooth metal, before cradling the lock in her fingers, and spinning the dial. He watched her steel herself, a common sight in the last two weeks since the shooting, and tug at the lock, and finally swinging the metal door open. She smiled tenderly, taking in the contents of Nick's personal space. His locker was a timeline of his life, jumbled up in a knot. The photos on the inside of the door, she observed, were mostly pictures of Lauren, in her various stages of infancy and toddlerhood, including her preschool graduation photo, Taken just last spring. Those photos were taped to a few of the night shift, before the initial separation, a sonogram photo, and a few pictures of Nick and Warrick, or Nick and Greg, working scenes or evidence. She picked off a photo of them together, a few weeks after she had moved in, before she was showing with Lauren. She remembered him taking that photo, he had assaulted her with affection after a tiring shift, and had held the camera out at arms length, snapping a picture of their kiss. She had smacked him hard, and then pushed the camera out of his hand, freeing it to do other, unmentionable things.

"You coming back Monday?" Greg leaned casually against Warrick's locker, hands in his pockets. It was his way of asking her if she was alright, how she was holding up, coming into the lab for the first time since running out of it when the nurse in the ER called. She smiled at him briefly, prying the tape off of the metal of the locker, and tugging at the photos, some of which had been there for thirteen years, like the tattered photo of Maverick, his golden retriever who had moved with him to Vegas from Texas when he joined Grissom's team, some of them from a few months ago, like the picture Lauren had taken of them goofing off in the kitchen.

"Yeah. Lauren's going to stay with Lindsey at Catherine's until I can figure something out. I put in a transfer to days, but there aren't any slots, I'm sure it will get denied. There's so much more shuffling now. It wasn't this hard with Nick. Here." She stepped back, dropping a few pictures into the box, and turning back to the locker. She picked out his toiletries, tossing them unceremoniously into the box, and shifted through a few CD's, dropping them beside the other contents. She piled in his half empty bottle of water, and dropped his collection of extra clothes into the box as well. Her eyes fell on his field vest, and she reached out to touch it softly. "Are you stopping by after shift?"

"Yeah, if you want me."

"If you aren't too tired. I'm mostly put together, I just can't sleep." Sara stopped tossing Nick's things into the box, and sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, placing a hand on her hip.

"I'll come by. I haven't seen Lauren in what, 36 hours? I'm suffering from withdrawal. I won't be able to get out before I wrap this case though, I'm looking at tomorrow morning at the earliest." Sara nodded, smiling at his attempt to lighten the mood, and rubbed her delicate features with her hand before looking him straight in the eye.

"I'm sorry, I'm being really selfish. I can't get to sleep without you there. Stupid, I know." She turned back to the locker, ignoring the field vest, instead sweeping her hand over the top shelf of the locker, causing a waterfall of tiny objects to fall into the box, Tylenol, a baseball, a few stray batteries that had begun to leak acid, his tiny Maglight, cough drops, and a half used tube of toothpaste.

"It's not selfish. I'll be there. You can drop Lauren off at school, and then we'll work something out so you don't lose your sanity."

"What little I cling to these days." She bent, reaching to the bottom of Nick's locker, and extracted a pair of dress shoes, and a pair of hiking boots, nestling them into the contents of the box. "He was such an amazing man. Yet his entire life fits into a cardboard box. Depressing, really. We all just fit into boxes in the end."

"I intend on stuffing my cardboard box to its limits, then."

"Yeah, me too." Sara had stripped Nick's locker of its contents, save the field vest that hung all by itself.

"I get to keep his vest, right?" Sara touched Nick's vest again, pulling it carefully from its hanger. She folded it in her hands, running her fingers over his name on the right breast.

"Yeah. It's yours." She nodded, taking a deep breath to avoid falling the tears in her eyes. She reached to the back hook of Nick's locker, and extracted the forensics baseball cap he always wore when working a scene during daylight hours. Turning it over in her hands, she placed the cap on top of the neatly folded vest, closing the empty locker with a soft click, and turned to face Greg again.

"Thanks, Greg." He nodded, and made no motion to stop her as she made to exit the locker room.

"I'll see you after I finish here."

"Alright." She paused, beside him, and leaned in, pressing a gentle, chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, for a mere second. "Thank you." He threw her a small smile, and followed her out of the locker room, parting ways with her as he headed toward the layout room, and she to the parking lot.

………

Hours later, Greg found himself dragging his feet to the Sidle-Stokes front stoop, pushing his own key into the lock, and entering of his own free will. He was pummeled with the scents of homemade cooking, and his heart swelled when he heard Lauren giggle in the kitchen. He dropped his bag, and hung up his coat, and made his way into the kitchen.

"Uncle Greg! Mumma said you were coming. We made omelets like Daddy used to make. Look, this one's for you." Lauren met Greg over the threshold of the kitchen, hugging his waist tightly.

"Thanks, Lauren." He arched his eyebrow at the little girl, who squeezed ketchup onto the eggy mass of omelet she had placed at a place at the table.

"Dad said everything is better with ketchup."

"Brush your teeth, baby. It's almost time for school." Sara spoke quietly, from her place leaning against the counter, and Lauren obliged instantly, leaning up to kiss Greg's cheek as he sat down before disappearing around the corner and up the stairs.

"She's doing much better."

"Yeah. She's more focused on getting back to school, she needs some form of a routine. You don't have to eat that, ugh Greg." She smiled softly, half amused, half disgusted, as Greg took a bite of the omelet Lauren had made. She laughed at the face he made, and inwardly, he was thankful he was able to get such a positive reaction out of her. He pushed away the rest of the omelet, and stood to take the cup of coffee Sara poured for him. He was careful not to let his fingers linger over hers, give her space. She leaned over on her elbows, on the counter top, sipping from her own mug, inches away from him. They drank their coffee in silence, listening to Lauren's little feet pattering around between the bathroom and her bedroom, getting ready for the school bus that was going to take her the six blocks to the elementary school at the end of the street. Having her ride the school bus had been Nick's idea, he had argued that it built independence, and that after all, it was only six blocks. Sara had allowed Lauren to ride the bus, just to get Nick off her case.

"How are you feeling about sending her to school?"

"I hate that she rides the damn bus. I hate that bus, I told Nick I didn't want her on that bus. She's only five years old." Sara stared down into her mug, focusing on the swirls of brown liquid lightened with a smattering of cream.

"I'll take her."

"You don't have to, Greg, that's crazy, she usually takes the bus." She took a long sip, and set the mug down on the counter.

"No, I want to. Six blocks is enough time with Las Vegas traffic to listen to all of 'Brown Eyed Girl.' Gives you ten minutes to gather your sanity without having to put up a front." Sara smiled faintly, and nodded.

"Alright. Thank you." He flashed her a reassuring smile, and drained his mug, setting it in the sink, and exited the kitchen, making his way to the foot of the stairs.

"Hey Lauren, how about I drive you to school?" Sara rubbed her forehead with the heel of her palm as she listened to her daughter call back an affirmative, and make her noisy way down the stairs. She hastily wiped a few tears from her eyes as Lauren came around the corner, arms outstretched, waiting for a hug. Sara bent, gathering her daughter in her arms, pressing a kiss to her head as Lauren hugged her back tightly. Sara didn't let go for a few moments, and soon Lauren was squirming out of her grasp.

"Mumma, Uncle Greg's gonna drive me to school, but you gotta let me go first."

"Right, right. Sorry. Have a nice day, baby."

"Bye Mumma." Lauren scampered back to Greg, and took his hand, leading him to the front door, picking up her pink little backpack, and dragging Greg out the door.

"I'll be right back." Greg smiled back at her, and she waved as they disappeared out the front door.

Sara glanced at the photo of her and Nick, taken, incidentally, by Greg, right after Lauren was born. Lauren lay cradled in Sara's arms, fingers of one hand wrapped tightly around Nick's finger. He had just turned form Lauren, and had caught her in a kiss, and the photo showed the smile that had crept over Nick's features, as they glanced at each other briefly before turning back to the crying baby in Sara's arms.

She was relieved to have Greg around, he was a consistent source of strength, and he was caring and loving to Lauren, stepping into Nick's vacant shoes one task at a time. She didn't know whether to be angry with him for picking up where Nick left off, or to comforted that he was around so much. Years ago he had incessantly flirted with her, before she got pregnant with Lauren. In the years since she and Nick had moved in together, and had the baby, Greg's jovial pick up lines, and playful, suggestive banter had waned, and in its stead, she found a companionable friendship, strengthened by their complimenting work styles. She loved Greg, but she wasn't completely okay with him in their space. She had asked him to come, though. Sara sighed heavily, placing a hand on her stomach to quiet its uneasy churning. She was not going to have him take Nick's place, but she didn't want him to leave. The tug of war she was having with herself wasn't fair to Greg, it was just a matter of working it out with him. She took a deep breath as she heard him open the front door, and let himself in.

"Hey. Lauren's been safely delivered. I'm not on the pick up list, though, so you'll have to get her." He sat down beside her, leaving a foot or so of room between them. "What's the matter, Sara?" Sara took a minute to respond, seemingly choosing her words wisely.

"I don't know what to do about this." She waved her hand in the space between them, pinching the bridge of her nose. Greg leaned forward on his knees, unsure of what to say.

"Us. You. Here. You here so much. You can't replace him, Greg, no matter how hard you try."

"I know that. Listen, if this is about taking Lauren to school, I just wanted to help, you hate the school bus."

"It's not just that," she paused. "I don't know, forget it."

"No, speak your mind." She glanced at him briefly, he had turned from her, and was staring at the area rug on the floor.

"I just, I don't know, I'm scared, Greg, I don't know what to do."

"Let me help you."

"We aren't your problem, Greg. We aren't your responsibility." He winced at acid quality of her voice, the ice in her words. She stood, pacing only just, wrapping a hand around her midsection.

"I never said you were. You and Lauren-"

"You aren't her father!" Sara raised her voice, startling Greg. He immediately went on the defensive, standing to look her in the eye.

"Don't you think I know that?" Greg's voice was steady, dangerously quiet. She watched him trying to keep his emotions under wraps, trying to hide the hurt in his eyes, and mostly succeeding. He stepped closer to her, and for a brief second, Sara wanted nothing more than to hug him and apologize, for everything she had said. "Don't you think I'm reminded that I could have had that night off, every time I look at Lauren, with her Nick Stokes hair, and her Nick Stokes eyes, and her Nick Stokes smile, and her Nick Stokes laugh? Don't you think she's a constant reminder of how much I'm not her father? How much I will never be her father? Nick, Nick is her father, Nick will always be her father, nothing will ever change that."

"I do love you, Greg, I really do."

"What do you want me to do, Sara? I can leave, you obviously don't want me to stay."

"Greg, I-"

"Tell me what you want, Sara, I'm exhausted, I worked a triple homicide by myself last night."

"I-I just want everything back to normal. I'm a mess, Greg, I don't know what to do." She wiped her tears away roughly, looking up at him. Greg had crossed his arms over his chest, gaze still fixated on the floor.

"What do you want me to do, Sara?"

"I don't know. I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can't keep anything down, I've been jittery, everything's been making me nauseous. I don't know what to tell Lauren anymore, I don't know how to handle Nick's parents-"

"Everyone is worried about you, Sara."

"I know, I know, Warrick wasn't sleeping either, but he's been going home to Catherine, Catherine's called, and stopped by, Grissom-"

"Do you want Grissom, Sara? I can get him, I'll take his cases, he can come-"

"No. No, I just, I'm at my wits end." She rubbed her stomach, fighting the nausea that had set on suddenly. "I don't know where to go from here. Nick's parents want to take Lauren to Texas, but I can't leave her, and I can't leave the lab, I'm scared they'll sic Social Services on me, single mother working nights in the City of Sin. She's a lawyer and he's a judge, I'm going to lose her."

"You aren't. They can't take her like that. You're her mother."

"I just don't know what to do, Greg, I'm lost without him." She sat down in Nick's chair, holding her head in her hands. Greg made no motion comfort her, leaving the distance between them as it was.

"You break my heart when you cry, Sara." He whispered.

"Greg-"

"He's not coming back, Sara."

"I know that."

"This is not what he wanted for you."

"Greg-"

"He's gone, Sara, nothing can change that." Sara's tears welled in her eyes, and she blinked them away, childishly wiping them from her cheeks. She let out a sob, and Greg's heart shattered again.

"I know that." She gripped her stomach, running a panicked hand through her curly hair. He watched her carefully, as she recomposed herself, and stood again, having caught her balance.

"I can do a lot of things, Sara, I just can't bring him back. I wish that I could, I would do it in a heartbeat. I'd trade places with him in an instant, Sara, because you need him more than you need me, Lauren needs him more than she needs me."

"Greg-"

"She needs her mother, too, Sara. Don't slip away from her."

"Gregory, I-" Sara fell silent, realizing she had nothing to articulate. She didn't deserve such a loyal friend. Here she was pushing him away, and he was there, pushing his way back to her. "I'm sorry. I was out of line." Her voice dropped to the defeated, weary, apologetic quality it had held for weeks now. Greg said nothing, running a hand through his shaggy hair. There was silence, as the clock on the mantle chimed nine o'clock in the morning, the bright morning Nevada sun shining in through the windows. It was Greg who broke the silence, barely audible, a soft whisper.

"You're pregnant, aren't you?"

Her silence was a good enough answer for him.

………

A/N: I know I had said I was going to get Sara back in the lab in this segment… but this just flew in a completely different direction. Sorry to leave you hanging. More to come, soon. Scout's honor.


	6. Chapter 6

"Every burden is a blessing."

Walt Kelly

…

"_What?"_ Sara stared back up at him as if he had sprouted and extra head.

"How far along are you, Sara?"

"We aren't having this conversation, Greg." No, she was not pregnant. She was stressed out, she was dealing with trauma, she was not pregnant.

"It's too late to back out of it now, Sara. Talk to me."

"It's not like that, Greg." Sara rubbed her hands over her face, and met his gaze.

"What did your doctor say?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Sara." His tone was gentle, his expression softened.

"I haven't made an appointment."

"Sara."

"I'm." She took a deep breath. "I'm late, but it's stress."

"How late?"

"Greg-"

"How late, Sara?" Greg's voice was quiet, gentle, and he knelt beside her, letting her weave her fingers into his.

"Seventeen days."

"What happened?" he brushed aside a stray curl, and was startled when she choked out a laugh.

"You, of all people should understand the physics of conception, Mr. Former DNA Technician." He smiled, relieved that she was making a joke.

"Yeah, yeah, you're funny. What I meant, was why didn't you do anything?"

"We weren't trying or anything, God, I'm too old to be doing this." She sighed, gripping his arm. "I haven't even peed on a stick yet. I guess I'm hoping that I'm not pregnant, I don't want Lauren growing up without her father, never mind a brand new baby."

"But Sara, there could be more of Nick alive in there, don't you want to know for sure?" Sara pulled him to her, and he knelt between her knees, rubbing his hands along her back, as she gripped his shoulders much like Lauren always did, hugging him to her. He dropped a kiss to her shoulder, holding her tightly as she regained her composure against his shirt. She squeezed her eyes shut, remembering the last time she and Nick had had a night off together, days before the shooting.

"_How would you feel about another baby?" Nick whispered suggestively in her ear, pulling her tighter against him._

"_You're crazy, you know that?"_

"_C'mon, darlin', seriously. What do you think?"_

"_You didn't ask me what I thought about the first one."_

"_Well, I don't think Jack Daniels asked either of us on that one. I'd do it again, though, even if I was sober." He rolled on top of her, his suggestive grin, the crinkle of his smile reaching the corners of his eyes._

"_Nick, get off me."_

"_Are we too old for another baby?"_

"_Absolutely."_

"_How about one that looks like you."_

"_Nicholas."_

"_Sara, it's midnight."_

"_Mmhmm. Brilliant observation, Cowboy."_

_ "What's that song? 'But the world will bend, An' the fight will end. Love will always win-'"_

"_Enough, don't sing."_

"_Shirts, Sara, should be illegal. Let me help you with that."_

"_Nick!" She had let out a girlish laugh as he lifted the hem of her Harvard tee shirt over her head in one swift motion._

"_Don't laugh at me! You'll wake up Lauren."_

"_Oh, I'll wake up Lauren. I see how it- Jesus, Nick." He had hit that spot, kissing her along her neck, and Sara arched into him involuntarily._

"_Pants should be illegal too, I should know, I used to be a cop."_

"It could just be stress." Sara pulled back, resting her forehead against Greg's. "It's probably just stress. I'm terribly stressed." Greg cracked a smile, shifting only just to kiss her cheek, and whisper in her ear.

"I think maybe you should pee on a stick." He felt her laugh softly into his shoulder, and he stood, holding his hand out to her. She took it, and he helped her out of the chair. "I have one left over from Lauren, in the bathroom." He nodded, and she walked past him, placing a hand on his chest, telling him to stay there.

"I'll put on some tea."

"Alright. I'll, um. Be back in a few minutes." He watched her make her way down the hall and up the stairs, and he listened to her footsteps making their way to the bathroom, then the door open and close. He threw a dishtowel down onto the counter, and leaned against the stove after turning the kettle on.

"Jesus, Nick. You should be here." He turned to the cabinets, finding a mug, and reaching further back to retrieve a tea bag. He set them on the counter, and stared at the burner until it blurred like a Monet painting through his tears.

Upstairs, Sara was perched on the side of the tub, staring at the floor, unable to watch the lines appear or not appear on the plastic stick. She leaned against the tiles on the side of the shower, propping a foot up on the side of the tub. She laid a gentle hand on her abdomen, letting the sobs wrack her body.

Nick wasn't here. Nick would never be here. He was gone. He had left her, left her pregnant with a five year old, she wasn't stupid, she knew what the plastic test stick would say. She could still hear his soft moan by her ear, still feel his weight on top of her, his kisses down her neck, his chuckle against her stomach, his hip against hers.

"Why did you leave me? Why did you go where I couldn't follow, Nicky? I need you." She coughed out a few sobs, gathering herself when she saw that the egg timer had stopped. Lauren had dropped it a year or so ago, making pancakes to surprise her with Nick, it hadn't buzzed since. She stood, taking a quick glance at the test stick that only supported Greg's original observation. She held a death grip on the flimsy plastic as she made her way down the stairs. She paused at the foot of the stairs, listening to the musical, soothing string of Greg's soft voice, speaking in gentle Norwegian.

"Nådig Helgen Joseph, beskytter meg og min familie fra all onde da De gjorde den Hellig Familie. Snilt beholder oss noensinne forend seg i kjærligheten av Kristus, noensinne glødende i imatasjon av dyden av vår Velsignet Dame, Deres, og alltid trofast i hengivenhet til De. Amen." The kettle began to whistle, and she heard him move, and the whistle died slowly, as he poured the hot water into a mug. He always made tea, even before the shooting, when Greg was anywhere near their kitchen, he was making tea. She sighed, realizing that that simple act comforted her. She smiled, making her way silently to the threshold of the kitchen, thankful she went unnoticed. He stood against the counter, steeping the tea bag. "Gir hennes styrke, vi begge vet hun trenger det." He mumbled, under his breath.

"So what's all that in English?" he turned, and offered her the mug and a small caught-in-the-act embarrassed smile.

"Ah, a prayer. Not important." He glanced at the test strip she still held tightly in her hand. "So what does the stick say?"

"Pregnant." Her voice cracked, and she laid the stick down on the counter, and walked into Greg's embrace. She wrapped her arms tightly around his middle, burying her face in his shoulder. Greg hesitated at first, but easily slid his arms around her shoulders. He kissed her curls, and dropped his head to her shoulder, kissing the base of her neck, before smiling into their hug.

"That's wonderful." His words tickled her neck, and she wiped her tears on his shirt again, turning her head to face him, still nestled against his shoulder. She relaxed against him, taking comfort in his support and in the contact he offered her.

"What did you pray for?" He was silent for a moment, and she tightened her hold on his abdomen.

"Strength. From St. Joseph."

"What's he the saint of?"

"Unborn children, among other things." He smiled at her, and she pulled away to see his cheeks redden slightly, and she reached up to push a lock of hair out of his eyes. "I just, I couldn't do anything else. I'm not even particularly religious, I don't even know those prayers in English. I learned them as a child." Sara took him by complete surprise, touching the side of his face, and pulling him gently to her, pressing a soft, innocent kiss to his lips. She pulled away moments later, and smiled sadly at him.

"No one's ever prayed for me before." He smiled back at her briefly, putting a step of space between them. She rubbed her face with the sleeve of the long sleeve shirt she was wearing, one of Nick's baseball undershirts from college. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it." She scrunched her nose, in what Greg recognized as her first stage of panic face. "Sara, relax." He offered her the mug of steaming tea. "Here."

"Thanks." She took the mug, holding it with both hands.

"So who has the honor of the first phone call?"

"I should call Nick's parents."

"But."

"How did you know?" Sara set down the mug, placing one hand on her flat stomach, another on the edge of the counter. "How did you know I was pregnant? _I_ didn't know I was pregnant."

"I've spent the majority of my double digit career memorizing your facial expressions and your mannerisms. Of course I figured out you were pregnant." She smiled, as genuinely as she could handle. He had stopped flirting with her, had stopped asking her out. He had accepted her relationship with Nick, had loved her daughter dearly. They had built a friendship, on trust and affection, and the codependency they had developed for each other in the field. And he still watched her, with that same distant, loving, considerate eye.

"Thanks, Greg." He waved her off.

"You'd do the same for me. Although, if I was pregnant, I'd have other, more pertinent issues to deal with." He sighed, missing her smile as he rubbed at his eyes tiredly. The triple homicide on the triple shift was catching up to him quickly.

"Get some rest, Greg." She picked up the test stick and tossed it in the trash, moving to grab the address book, flipping through to the S's.

"You sure you're okay?" He leaned beside her on the counter, scanning her expression. She found the page that had Nick's parents' number on it, in Nick's lazy scrawl, and picked up the cordless phone from the counter.

"Yeah. I-I need to do this myself." He nodded, and left her in the kitchen, making his way to the living room and laying down on the couch. He stretched out on his stomach, pillowing his head with his arms, and listened to Sara's half of the conversation with Mrs. Stokes as a lullaby, drifting off to a light, even sleep in minutes.

Sara held the phone away from her ear, sighing as Nick's mother started to cry in Texas. Nick had dealt with telling them the last time around, and had gotten off the phone in tears himself. Of course, they had been happy tears then, Nick's mother was so happy her youngest little baby was finally settling down. Nick didn't tell her about the whiskey.

"Are you alright, Sara?"

"I don't know, Jillian, I just haven't done this in a while."

"How far along are you, love?"

"I'm late, almost three weeks, and the home test was positive."

"Are you feeling sick? You were sick with Lauren."

"I'm queasy, I don't know, I can't keep anything down."

"That's normal, love, this has just been so much." The older woman sighed into the phone. "I can be on the next plane."

"No, it's alright."

"Is there someone to be there with you? Nicky wouldn't want you to be alone, Sara."

"Greg is here. Lauren will be home from school in a few hours. I-I just, I needed to tell you."

"What do you want me to tell Bill, love?" Sara ran a hand through her curls, and cradled the phone with her shoulder.

"Tell him whatever you want. My next call is to the OB office though, so we- I can get all this straightened out."

"And Greg will go with you."

"Jillian-"

"You need the support, Sara." Nick's mom paused. "Take care of yourself, and I'm only a phone call away. Take care of those babies, they're all we have left of Nick." Sara's heart broke as she listened to her would-be mother in law's voice hitch. "I'm sorry, love. Say the word and I'm on a plane."

"Thanks." Sara said her goodbyes to Nick's mom, and hung up, placing the phone in its cradle by the entranceway. She turned her attention to the sleeping man on the couch. Greg had stretched out along the length of the couch, had kicked off his Converses, and had, in his sleep, cuddled up to one of the throw pillows. He was exhausted, and their earlier argument, as well as the uncovering of her pregnancy, had worn hard on him. The poor man worked a triple shift, and still found the time to bring her daughter to school, to support her and hug her even after she tried to kick him out.

Sara reached over him, pulling the knitted afghan blanket from Nick's grandmother over Greg's sleeping form. She shifted the blanket to cover him, but he groaned softly, halfway waking up.

"Hey, what did Nick's mom say?" She smiled at the groggy sound of his voice, intoxicated with fatigue. She moved to step away from him, but he reached out to her, brushing his fingers against her leg. "Hey. What did she say?" He sat up, childishly wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"She offered to get on a plane."

"And you declined."

"Well, yeah. I think I'm okay, and I have you." He smiled, and pulled her down to sit beside him.

"You will always have me, I will always be there for you." He pressed a kiss to her cheek, and lay back down, using her leg as a pillow. "Let's work out a plan of action, shall we?"

"You're going to fall asleep." She ran a hand through his hair, gently working out a knot.

"So you talk, I'll sleep." Sara pursed her lips in a small smile, and Greg closed his eyes. "Or I'll just sleep." Sara nodded, even though he couldn't see her. She was thankful he didn't pry, and even more thankful that he was here, she needed him more than he would ever realize. She listened to his even breathing, and she let the tears drip from her eyes, opting the run her fingers through Greg's hair, appreciating the simplicity in human contact.

………

A/N: More to come. Thanks for the plethora of reviews!


	7. Chapter 7

A few days later, Sara returned to the lab. She slipped in, without the junior high gossip fanfare that the lab usually generated, and took her seat in the break room beside Greg quietly, still getting used to the empty seat to her left. The night shift watched as she laid her hand on the chair that Nick had sat in for more than ten years, acknowledging his absence. Greg reached out to her, touching her shoulder softly.

"Sara? You alright?" Greg's fingers on her arm seemed to bring her out of her thoughts, and she turned to him and smiled only just.

"Yeah. Sorry. I just didn't think about the empty seat. I'm okay." The gentle look she gave him told him to keep wraps on her pregnancy news for now, and he fell silent. She turned her attention to Grissom, anticipating his handing out of assignments.

"Good to have you back, Sara." Grissom stated quietly, and fanned out the assignment slips pairing up his staff. "Warrick DB in Henderson, Catherine, you and I will take the murder suicide in North Vegas, Greg, fire at the Gentlemen's Club on Fremont, take Sara with you." Grissom handed Warrick his slip, and Greg another. "Let Greg lead this one, Sara, ease back in." Sara nodded, and the team went their separate ways. Greg made his way down the hall, keenly aware of Sara beside him.

"We get Brass." Greg glanced at the assignment slip as they made their way into the locker room. She hesitated, glancing at Nick's locker before opening her own and grabbing her field vest, but he left her to it, choosing not to comment. "Want to drive?"

"You're lead, you drive." He grabbed his keys off the hook in his locker, and they made their way to the parking lot. They silently climbed into Greg's Denali, and the drive to the wreckage of the strip club on Fremont was quiet, save for the soft mumblings of Ray Charles in the CD player. Sara attempting to focus on the case at hand, Greg concentrating what energy he could on helping Sara adjust to coming back to work. His plan, if he could call it that, was to not give her that I'm-concerned-for-your-well-being-come-here-and-give-me-a-hug look that he had been abusing these past few weeks. She didn't need to be reminded of her personal trauma, she needed her crime scene partner back.

He pulled up to the crisped over, soggy, half-charred remains of one of the least reputable strip clubs on Fremont beside Brass' car, killing the engine, and extracting the keys from the ignition.

"Thanks, Greg." He paused, at her soft words, and turned to her, sitting beside him.

"For what?"

"Normalcy. Today. I appreciate it." She smiled, and swung open the passenger side door, climbing out of the front seat, and closing it behind her. Greg nodded to himself, resolving to let Sara set the tone, and climbed out himself, reaching into the backseat to retrieve his kit. He smiled to himself as she followed her to where Brass was standing, waiting for them. She had already pushed her wild curls into an elastic, and was scanning the remains of the fire with an analytical eye. Sara was beginning to heal, and suddenly he was thankful Grissom didn't give them a body.

"What do we got, Jim?"

………

"So Sidle's back on the beat." Warrick glanced up, annoyed at Metcalf's small talk interrupting his processing. The last thing he wanted to think about was Nick, if he thought about his dear friend longer than thirty seconds he would tear up and lose his focus.

"She's returned to work, if that's what you're referring to." He snapped a few pictures of fifty-one year old Gerald Foreman, and the blood trickle that had dried down the front of his shirt.

"Word around the precinct is she-"

"There shouldn't be words about her, especially around that water cooler of a PD." Warrick crouched beside the blood pool at Mr. Foreman's hip.

"Hey, we're all in this together, Stokes was one of us."

"One of you, huh? I don't see you spreading ugly rumors about Lockwood's wife. He was one of you. Or Jake Bell's wife, what do you say about her behind her back?" Warrick set down the camera and snapped on gloves.

"They were hardly married, Brown."

"They were as good as."

"I mean, who's to say the kid is even his? They weren't in a committed relationship."

"Shut your mouth, Metcalf, or I'll shut it for you. You have a habit of talking yourself into a hole, and an even bigger habit of talking about things that you don't know about."

"Threatening an officer?"

"Don't flatter yourself." Warrick grabbed his tweezers from his kit, and picked up a shell casing. "Hand me a damn bindle, will you?" Warrick looked up from where he was kneeling at the sound of footfalls in the hallway. "Hey Dave."

"Hey, sorry I'm late, traffic is insane." David Phillips knelt down beside Mr. Foreman, patting the man's pockets and not finding any wallet. "We got ID somewhere?"

"Yeah, Gerald Foreman, fifty-one. Manager at that 70s record store off strip." Metcalf recited, reading the notes from his pad.

"You going for Detective, Officer?" David sunk the thermometer into Mr. Foreman's liver and smiled.

"We're stretched a bit. Vartann took the notes, but Brass called him to that fire scene."

"Ahh. Greg and Sara are working that one, right?" He turned to Warrick, who only nodded. "Ooh, 81.7. "

"No bodies at the fire, probably a good scene for our weeping widow to get her bearings, eh?" Dave arched his eyebrow in confusion at Metcalf, and shot Warrick a questioning glance.

"What the hell are you on about, John?"

"Nothing." Warrick glared at Metcalf, amazed that the man would not shut his mouth. "Officer Metcalf wasn't talking about anything, if he knows what's good for him." David only nodded, sensing the tension between the other two men.

………

"Lay it out." Sara stood from where she had crouched to examine the base of the flame patterns along the wall. This was pretty cut and dry, illegal pyrotechnics mixed with faulty wiring, mixed with dumb luck no one was in the building when it combusted. They had wasted three hours shifting through what remained of the seediest strip club on Fremont, and despite the lack of criminal activity, except for maybe the illegal fire torches, which of course, had started the fire to begin with, Sara found herself almost happy to be back at work, settling back into the routine for working cases that she and Greg had developed. Greg held his Maglight out by his head, sifting through the remains of a charred collection of bar stools, leaning over the walkway bar.

"Bad wiring, illegal pyrotechnics, and too much kerosene in the pipes."

"Accident waiting to happen."

"Pretty much. Should probably snatch the business transactions, the work that's been done, and talk to the manager a bit more, but I'd say this is open and shut."

"Let's get back to the lab." She held out the box of samples they had collected, and he took them from her, following her out.

"After you, sunshine."

………

The rest of their night had gone fairly smoothly, she had handed in all the samples to Hodges, who gave her a smile and a brief hug, welcoming her back. She stepped into the break room, making her way to the cabinet with the coffee mugs to get herself much needed caffeine. She had been doing fine all shift, putting Nick to the back of her mind, and concentrating on doing her job, until she opened the cabinet, and his coffee mug with the outline of his home state with the words "Home Sweet Cattle Ranch" written across it. She sighed, taking the mug off the shelf, and turning it over in her hands.

"Something gonna bite you?" She looked up from Nick's mug to smile gently at Warrick, who had just walked in.

"No, I just went for a mug. Must have forgotten to grab this the other day." She set Nick's mug down carefully on the table, and Warrick nodded, recognizing it instantly.

"Sara-"

"How's your case coming?" She reached further back, and wrapped her fingers around her own mug, with the elegant Harvard insignia on it.

"Case is fine. Metcalf is getting on my nerves, though."

"Good to know some things don't change. What was he on about?"

"Gossip and scandal. I set him straight." The stiffness in Warrick's words, and the rigid set of his jaw told her Metcalf was running his mouth about either her or Nick, or her and Nick.

"No one believes the rumor mills, Rick."

"He doesn't know what he's talking about."

"What did he say?" It was morbid curiosity, really, and deep down inside she didn't want to think about the words that were circling around the PD water coolers like flies to a decomp.

"Just some pretty out of line generalizations."

"So he was talking about Nick." She took a sip from her mug, and sat down across from her friend, eyeing him carefully.

"Among other things. Just stay away from him today, he's in a mood."

"He was talking about me, wasn't he?"

"I thought he was only judgmental towards suspects and convicts. Unfortunately, I was wrong." Warrick slouched in his chair, and ran a hand over his face tiredly.

"I never liked him anyway."

"Me neither." The gentle metallic beeping of Sara's pager went off, and she glanced at the message from Hodges, their trace results were ready.

"Hodges has my results. Hang in there, Warrick. Take a nap, you look like shit." He smiled at her retreating back as she made her way out of the break room and down the hall to the Trace lab. Unfortunately, from just outside the Trace lab, there was a perfect view of the waiting area and front desk. She was dialing Greg, and wasn't watching where she was stepping, and soon found herself face to face with a smirking Officer Metcalf.

"Excuse me." She stepped around him and started to continue, but his words stopped her dead in her tracks.

"I'd have thought you'd be wearing black, Sidle." She turned around, and winced at his tone.

"Word has it you've been running your mouth, Officer."

"I do the same as you, make observations." He stepped closer to her, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not occupationally restricted from voicing them, however."

"That's a shame. Just keep your mouth out of my personal life, will you?" He took another step, and Sara glanced at the corner she hoped Greg would be coming around any second. "It's none of your business, my life, Nick's life, none of that concerns you."

"There's always talk when you lose one of your own, Sidle, you know that. People are still talking about that girl you replaced."

"Oh, so Nick was one of you? I'm pretty sure his badge read 'Investigator,' not 'Detective.'"

"Once a cop, always a cop, Sara."

"So what's this gossip you are so effectively spreading, hrm? I'd like to know what the word is around PD." She shifted her weight, standing square with him.

"You tell me, you're living this disarray of debauchery."

"I didn't know you knew such big words, Metcalf."

"Word has it Lauren isn't Nick's." He smiled to himself, satisfied that he had struck a chord with her.

"Don't bring my child into this." Her voice dropped to a whisper, and she suppressed tears effectively.

"Word has it you took advantage of Stokes' southern chivalry, and lied to him."

"Don't you _dare_ talk about Nick like that." She had raised her voice, and Hodges whipped his head up from Grissom's samples, making his way to the door of the Trace lab.

"Sara." He called to her softly, closely watching Officer Metcalf, should he get any closer. She didn't hear him though, and started to lay into Metcalf.

"If you had ever come to _our_ house, or had a conversation with _our_ daughter, or spent any time thinking about _our_ circumstances, you'd know that none of those nasty rumors you're spreading are true. Here." She pulled out her wallet from her back pocket, and produced a picture of Lauren. "Look at _our_ daughter and tell he she doesn't look like Nick." She ripped the photo out of his hand faster than he could look at it. "He was a good man, and he doesn't deserve to be cut down by people like _you_ who can't be trusted to secure a scene so they put you on body watch."

"Sara-"

"Get out of my lab."

"I work here, _Sidle_."

"You work at PD, _John_. That's the next building over."

"Berating an officer, Ma'am?"

"Get out- Let me go!" Sara realized that familiar arms had pulled her from the hallway, and into the Trace lab. Greg had come down the corridor, and had not stopped, walking straight into Hodges' cave and dragging Sara with him.

"Calm down, Sara."

"Greg, let me go!" She squirmed, and Greg loosened his grip, but still standing between her and the door. Hodges stood in the hallway, peeling his gloves off, watching Metcalf's retreating form.

"He's gone."

"That bastard! Did you _hear_ the things he said about Nick?"

"Sara."

"No, I will not calm down."

"Sara." Greg waited patiently for the flush tones to leave her cheeks, and for her blood pressure to return to normal. "Don't listen to him."

"How can I not, Greg, the man has the biggest mouth in PD."

"You need to calm down, before you stress out the-"

"I get it, Greg, thanks." A few moments passed, and Hodges remained at the doorway, carefully observing the interaction between Greg and Sara. Something was going on, but judging by the way Sara cut down Metcalf, he was _not_ going to be the one to voice his observations.

………

A/N: this one kind of slid sideways… she's in the 'anger' phase of grief… more to come. Specifically, more Greg and Sara to come.


	8. Chapter 8

"Just walk beside me and be my friend."

Albert Camus

…

Sara had shaken off Metcalf's nasty comments, and had made it through the rest of the shift with a few deep breaths and more than a few quietly encouraging words from Greg. They were correct on first glance, the fire had been due to faulty gas lines and illegal pyrotechnics, and Brass took care of the owner, as well as promising to lay into Metcalf about the line between harassment and cruelty, and where he had overstepped it with Sara in the hall. They had both agreed when Grissom suggested they go home, it was nearing the end of the shift as it were, and Greg was still exhausted from his treacherous week of double shifts, and Sara wore a weary expression that said she had had enough.

Within the hour, Greg found himself passed out on his own bed, too tired to draw the black out curtains shut around the window, instead burying his face childishly in his pillow. His body pleaded for sleep, but his mind had begun to spin a strand of worried thoughts that he couldn't ignore. Sara had almost asked him to come over. Almost. She had decided, he figured, somewhere in her determined, stubborn mind, that she needed to work through the events of their shift on her own. Which was fine with him, he hadn't really slept in his own bed since taking Sara and Lauren home after Nick had died. Okay, so it obviously wasn't sitting completely at ease with him, he was worrying about her enough keep himself awake, despite the fluffy bedding and warm blankets.

Greg groaned, and rolled over onto his back, wincing at the bright sunshine incinerating its way through his eyelids. He only ever wanted Sara to be happy, and finally she had been. Now that her domestic contentment had shattered into a thousand pieces, lost to the wind like her goodbye to Nick's casket after the funeral, Greg had lost his ground. He used to know where he stood when it came to the Sidle-Stokes relationship, and where he fit in as the quirky uncle in their family. Now, he wasn't so sure. One minute she was pushing him away, afraid to let him in, sobbing out and accusing him of trying to slip into Nick's place, and the next, she was gripping his shoulders and drying her tears on his tee shirt, letting him hold her steady, _kissing_ him. He kicked the blanket off his feet; vaguely frustrated that Nevada had the nerve to be a sweltering temperature that day. She was devastated, he understood that, he had lost a friend as well.

He knew she wanted him to go to his own home, get his own rest, worry about his own health, she had said so herself, in not as many words. Actually, she hadn't said anything, just kissed his cheek, and slipped out to the parking lot, climbing into her own Denali, and turning onto South Rancho Drive, heading toward her own house. He had waited until she had pulled out before making his way to his own Denali, and making his way to his apartment, where he had bypassed the kitchen, and headed straight for his bed, dropping sneakers, his button down shirt, and his jeans on his way.

Now he lay wide awake, unable to chase Sara from his thoughts. In the movies, this was the opportunity for the best friend to become more. He's supposed to take her hand, and tell her that everything is going to be okay, that he had promised Nick that he would always take care of her and Lauren, that he intended on making good of that promise. This was where she would kiss him, and he would throw decency to the wind and kiss her back.

Of course, this wasn't some movie, and Nick had died too quickly for Greg to make such an oath, and he hadn't kissed her back. He had lost his chance, and instead of lamenting over his own lost happiness, he found his stomach churning with the uneasiness of his conscious, slamming him with a brand of guilt that tasted a lot like self-loathing. He hadn't kissed her back, she had surprised him, and he felt like Nick was just around the corner, waiting to walk in on him and his would-be wife. Of course, Nick was around every corner in that damn house. He was slowly coming to the conclusion he would always be Sara's second choice, and he was slowly wondering if he wanted to spend the rest of his life in someone else's shadow, even if that someone else was his good friend, and he was dead.

That sick feeling returned swiftly, and Greg sighed heavily as he realized he was making Nick's death into a soap opera drama centering around himself, and he never wanted that. The only option was to be a passive support for Sara to lean on only when she needed to lean. And she left the lab standing on her own two feet. It had been almost a month. Maybe, maybe she didn't need him anymore.

Another hour found Greg in a light sleep, his mind finally having succumbed to the weariness his body was feeling. He didn't hear the soft rapping on his door at first, but it roused him from his troubled sleep in a few minutes. He groaned softly as he rubbed at his eyes, tumbling out of bed and making his way to the door, not bothering to take a glance through the peep hole before swinging the door open on it's hinges.

Sara with messy wild curls around her face, and tear stained paths down her cheeks, in one of Nick's baseball jerseys and sweats was not what he thought would be on the other side of the door. He blinked, reaching to rub the sleep from his eyes, and leaned against the doorjamb, making no motion to let her in. She stood before him, a hand wrapped around her stomach, her other hand tangling her curls even further.

He was a sight. She had seen him little over two hours ago, but seeing him now, half asleep in his boxers and tee shirt, calmed her fears and put her instantly at ease. She was about to open her mouth to explain herself when he threw her a lopsided grin and backed away from the doorjamb, yawning and holding the door open for her.

"You don't have to stay out in the hallway, Sara." He watched the tension and anxiety fall off her shoulders, and she crossed the threshold into his apartment feeling better already, and turned to face him as he turned to close the door behind her. Her eyes swept over the gentle muscles that moved only just under his shirt, and she tried to ignore the swell of guilt in her chest. This was a bad soap opera, and she was caught in the middle of all the drama.

"I'm sorry for waking you, I-"

"It's fine." He smiled warmly at her, running a hand through his sleep-disheveled hair. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just. I just- the house was so quiet." She had been to his apartment hundreds of times, when she had argued with Nick while she was pregnant with Lauren, when he tried to teach her how to cook, the countless cases they had poured over at his kitchen table in his year under her wing. Standing in the middle of his little living room now, however, she felt like she was wading in uncharted waters. Maybe it was just the pregnancy hormones.

"It's quiet over here too, Sara." He took a step toward her, reaching out to push a stray curl behind her ear. "What do you need, Sara?" He stood before her, unwavering in his kind expression, his soft voice, completely unfazed by his underwear, focused entirely on her. She watched his eyes flicker to her lip as she let out a shaky breath, before staring at the floor, embarrassed.

"I couldn't sleep." His worried expression turned to an amused smile, and he shifted his weight, placing his hands along the waistband of his boxers, resting on his hips.

"So you drove all the way over here?"

"I couldn't take the pills that grief shrink gave me." Greg nodded, trying not to cry himself. Playing second fiddle to Nick was one thing, but being second choice after a bottle of sleeping pills was a whole new level of pathetic he wasn't sinking to. "I'm sorry, I-I don't know what I was thinking. I'll go." She made to step around him, but he held his hand out, stopping her with a gentle touch.

"Lauren at school?" He scanned her weary features as she nodded, placing a hand over his on her stomach. He turned toward her, and pressed a kiss to her temple lightly, before stepping away from her and making his way down the hallway to his bedroom. "There are blankets and an extra pillow in the old toy chest." He gestured tiredly over at a worn little chest in the corner of the living room, with a few words in Norwegian painted in what she recognized as his mother's delicate script. She looked from the chest to his retreating back. "If you want the bed you'll have to share it with me." She watched him walk into the bedroom, leaving the door ajar.

Her move, she could choose whichever piece of furniture she felt more comfortable with. He slid back into his bedding, settling down against the pillow. He wouldn't take advantage of her if she happened to slip into bed; he suspected it was the absence of the even breathing of a sleeping body beside her that was keeping her up at night. He smiled to himself, as he relaxed into his covers. This was just like an episode of 'The Odd Couple." Felix couldn't sleep for days because his watch with a ticking second hand had broken, and Oscar ultimately 'sang' him to sleep, simulating the ticking of the clock. Sara couldn't sleep because Nick wasn't sleeping beside her. If she decided to crawl into bed, rest her curly head on the pillow beside him, he would do his best to breathe a lullaby.

Sara stood for a moment where Greg had left her, thankful that he left the sleeping options open to her. He had offered her the couch, and the linens in his childhood keepsake toy chest, in case she would feel better out here in his cozy little living room. But he had left the bedroom door ajar. She was welcome to curl up into bed beside him if she wanted, the choice was hers. It was safe on the couch, she had slept there before. But the bed had a warm, sleeping body in it, and the need for that comfort outweighed the risk of the implications. She sighed heavily, not quite sure how this was going to work. Six weeks ago, she was curling up to Nick. In love with Nick. Ready to marry Nick. Raising her family with Nick. Having another baby with Nick.

But Nick was gone.

She needed sleep, this chronic restless hour and a half of sleep each night thing was just not working for her. Or the baby. She frowned, ignoring the gentle tear that welled in her eye. She was out of ideas. She tried the warm milk bit that Nick's mom had suggested when she was pregnant with Lauren, but that failed miserably, as had the Rachmaninoff pieces. By the time she had gotten to 674 sheep, she grabbed her keys and made her way to Greg's. Sara wasn't stupid, she hadn't been able to sleep right by herself, after six years of sleeping beside Nick. She missed his warm body, touching hers, his arm thrown casually around her waist, his soft, even breathing against her skin.

She hated herself, almost, for having the urge to use Greg for his breathing, and his body heat, but she was losing her sanity, one sleepless day at a time. She loved him, really. Her best friend, her partner in crime fighting, her gentle support in the face of tragedy. She smiled faintly as she realized that Greg understood all of this. It was why he left the door ajar. He knew she needed him, and he was okay with all the details. She imagined he would have told Nick not to worry about his family, that he would take care of them, had he had the chance.

Glancing around the homey little living room, she came to the conclusion that the only way she was going to get any sleep while Lauren was at school was if she climbed into bed, and curled up to Greg's side. She put a hand to her abdomen, remembering her second little piece of Nick. They both needed rest. She made her way to the bedroom door, and cracking it a few inches wider, slipping in, letting her eyes fall on Greg's sleeping form.

He had nestled himself into the blankets, the top of the covers lying across the small of his back, as he lay on his stomach, one arm curled under the pillow, one beside him on the mattress. She leaned back against the door, causing it to softly click shut behind her. She made her way to the other side of the bed, and folded back the covers gently, climbing in beside him. He felt the mattress dip only just under her weight, and he cracked open an eye, giving her a reassuring half smile.

"I promise not to feel you up." He mumbled into the pillow, holding out his hand to her. She smiled back at him, relaxing at his sleepy joke, tangling her fingers in his, and laying her head down on the other pillow.

"Thank you, Greg." He groaned an incoherent response, and tugged at her hand gently. She shifted closer to him, leaving a marginal six or seven inches between them. Greg lay his hand on her stomach lightly, and she covered it with one of her own, softly touching his knuckles. They lay in companionable silence for several minutes, Greg falling back to sleep, and Sara listening to as his breathing became even.

Finally, a few minutes later, her grip on his hand that rested on her stomach loosened as she relaxed, falling into a much needed, somewhat peaceful sleep. Greg waited until he was certain she was finally sleeping before reaching behind him to the alarm clock and switching it on, already set to be on time to pick Lauren up from school that afternoon. He watched her sleep for a few minutes, comforted in her calm expression. A small smile graced his features, as he realized he had finally gotten Sara Sidle into his bed. This was definitely not what he had in mind all those years ago when he had let his imagination have free rein over his fantasies, but he was a different man now, their friendship was more complicated than that.

If this was what she needed, then he was glad she had come to him.

………

A/N: sorry this took so long. Much thinking involved. More to come.


	9. Chapter 9

"The quickest way of ending a war is to lose it."

George Orwell

…

"_I don't know if I can do this." _

"_Sara. We can do this. I'm right here." Nick smiled at her kindly, and taking her hand in his as they pulled up the driveway of the Stokes ranch, just outside Dallas. Sara squeezed his fingers gently. He let go of her hand to throw the truck into park, and she laid the palm of her hand on the gentle swell of her abdomen. He had not been ignorant of her uneasiness, leaning over and pressing a kiss to her cheek lovingly. _

"_What if they hate me?"_

"_They won't hate you."_

"_What if they don't approve?"_

"_Sara. They've been asking for a grandchild from me for fifteen years. They'll take what they can get." _

"_Just, just stay where I can see you." _

"_I'll never leave you, Sara."_

Sara jerked awake at the memory and sat up straight in bed, one hand flying to her abdomen, the other searching for the warm body beside her instinctively. Her dream, her memory, had been so clear, Nick's words hung in a cloud over her consciousness, she could still hear his soft, reassuring voice in her ear. For a fleeting moment she thought she was in Dallas with Nick, pregnant with Lauren, but as her surroundings came into focus, she realized she was in Las Vegas, pregnant with the new baby, and the warm body her fingers had found belonged to Greg, who was slowly waking up.

Instantly, she felt the weight of everything hit her with a heavy guilty feeling in her chest, and she took her hand away from Greg's side, suddenly not wanting to wake him. Too late.

"You alright?" Greg wiped the sleep from his eyes, concern lacing his features as he propped himself up on an elbow. "Sara?"

"He said he'd never leave me." Her words came out as a whisper, and she brushed away the tear that welled in her eye. Greg lay back down, and ran his hands over his eyes. She had been dreaming. He felt miserable instantly, here she was, expecting to wake up beside Nick, reaching out for Nick, only to have her fingers find him instead. He was just about to speak when she settled back down into the bedding, and curled into his side. "I'm sorry."

"Just." He sighed, exhaling a deep breath. He didn't know what to do anymore. He was out of ideas. He shifted, propping he head up with his pillow, and hugged her tightly. "Just come here."

And she did. Sara laid her head on his chest, resting her arm across his abdomen. She had just begun to show, her slight little bump pressed against his side gently.

They were closing in on three months without Nick, and Ecklie had just posted the position open as a level one slot, but had made no further motion to advertise it. Sara wasn't the only one uncomfortable with the position being filled, but the leisurely pace the administration was taking in finding Nick's professional replacement was a comfort, even if it left the night shift stretched a bit thin.

They had been doing this for a little over two months. Ever since that morning she had shown up at his front door, a teary, insomniac mess. Now, now she curled up to him not in the desperate need for sleep as she had that morning, but in a companionable ease that tugged at his heart. Before, he was able to convince himself that sleeping beside Sara was a labor of love for Nick, calming her fears, coaxing her out of the occasional nightmare, setting the alarm clock, it was all for Nick.

Now, however, now she rested so easily in his arms, tightened her grip on his side, and he ran a hand along her shoulders affectionately, and for a fleeting moment, this was _their_ apartment, _their_ bed, that was _their_ baby, this was _their_ life.

For a moment.

He was such a jerk.

He turned his head to the side and pressed a kiss to her wild curls, immediately feeling guilty. Greg took a deep breath, moving his hand from her shoulder to her hair, sifting through her curls leisurely. He shouldn't be feeling guilty. Nick would have done the same if their places were reversed. His southern charm probably would have done it smoother, however. He would have done the cowboy thing, the reassuring smile, all the right words, simplistic body language. He wouldn't have stuttered and stammered his way through arguments, Nick would have known the limits, and not pushed them, avoiding arguments altogether.

Nick Stokes wasn't perfect though. He was human, a regular guy. Greg pulled Sara closer to him, and she yawned against his chest and acquiesced, shifting halfway on top of him. Her knee burrowed between his, and he let it, bringing his thigh up to rest against hers. No, he was definitely not Nick. Nick would have been more confident, more comforting.

Sara had postponed the trip to Dallas, preferring to take Lauren once school let out for the summer, instead of disrupting her routine all over again. For that he was secretly glad. He had developed a taste of the brand of insomnia Sara had initially sought him out for relief from, and more often than not could not drift off to a peaceful sleep without her in his arms. He just wasn't ready to go six consecutive days without her.

Then there was Lauren. Through all of this, his relationship with Lauren remained constant, in it's original form. He was still her crazy Uncle Greg, and he fought relentlessly to stay crazy Uncle Greg, in the eyes of the five year old. It was the one strand of normalcy in his life, and he clung to it with an almost wild desperation, it kept him from crossing the line with the sleeping woman beside him, pregnant with another man's baby.

"You're thinking too loud." Sara's soft whisper was warm against his tee shirt, and Greg smiled, unable to hold in a quiet laugh. She propped her head up on an elbow beside him, resting her hand in her tangle of wavy curls. She smiled warmly at him, and he couldn't help but return the gesture.

"Sorry."

"What's on your mind?"

"Nothing important." He didn't want to get into it, but she laid her hand on his chest, catching his attention. "Really, Sara, I didn't mean to wake you." He started to roll over, away from her, but she pulled him back, and he laid flat on his back beside her.

"Don't shut me out." She reached up and pushed a lock of hair out of his eyes, examining him with a concerned expression. He sighed heavily, there was no simple explanation for his growing dependency on her, or the guilt he fought off each time he drifted off to sleep with her within reach. "Greg."

He pulled away from her, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, resting his head in his hands. He was not having these feelings again. He had fought them, conquered them, years ago, after Sara had gotten pregnant with Lauren. His heart swelled as she touched the small of his back, and he willed himself to not close the space between them. He ran his hands roughly through his hair, concentrating on ignoring her movements as she came to sit up against the headboard. He didn't want to tell her that she still affected him, he hated himself for it. His feelings caused a guilt that wracked his soul each and every time he felt her pull back the covers, slide in between the sheets beside him. He battled his feelings for Sara years ago. He was not going to let them surface again, especially after she had made a commitment to Lauren and Nick.

"I'll make some breakfast." He stood, feigning impartiality, and didn't look back at her as he left the bedroom, and turned down the hallway to the tiny kitchen. He needed to put a sizable distance between them. He was suddenly failing to obtain the ability to restrain himself with the discipline he had developed in the last few years.

He squinted at the Nevada sun that slid in through the kitchen window; already well into its dissent along the Californian horizon. He watched it for a brief moment, before his eyes flickered to the small frame on the windowsill. In it, he was a little boy, grinning like a fool at Olaf and whatever wild tale he was telling from his youth. His father had left, just before Greg was old enough for grammar school. Greg's mother had found herself in bed with a cold pillow, and a hastily scribbled note, alone to raise a six year old and an infant on her own.

Greg understood the importance of a father figure. Papa Olaf had supported his only daughter, moving from his beloved homeland to a little street in Brooklyn, to help Greg's mother raise her children. Olaf had made it look so easy, sliding in where there was a void, picking up the slack where Greg's father had dropped the rigging to the bitter end, so to speak. All he wanted to do was to pick up where Nick had left off, give memories like the ones he had of Olaf to Lauren, he already loved her as if she was his own.

He groaned, frustrated with himself, and swung open the door to the fridge, taking out the milk and a few eggs, before turning and reaching into a cabinet for a mixing bowl. He didn't have to turn and look at her to know she was standing in the doorway to his little kitchen, watching him as he cracked open the eggshells with a little too much vigor. Her hair would be a disorderly, uncontrollable mess, rumpled by the peaceful sleep they were sharing, until Greg's conscious got the better of him. Her hand would be softly rubbing her swell of a pregnant bump, her expression would be weary, concerned, confused. He didn't have to look at her to gauge her thoughts. She used to look at him like that when he hadn't quite conquered his feelings the first time around. When she was still his mentor, when he was still her student. When she was pregnant with Lauren, moving in with Nick. He had won the war against himself all those years ago, and there was nothing indicating that the same victory couldn't be claimed again.

He just couldn't look at her.

If he turned around, his resolve would break, and he would be spilling his secrets between his tears. She had enough troubles, she didn't need him on top of it all. She didn't need his people saving complex, or his nice guy welcome mat mentality. She didn't need him at all. She was sleeping through the night, well, day. She had gotten Lauren back on a normal routine, she had taken herself to the doctor's, she had returned to work, had taken the lead on a few cases, had completed all the paperwork on Nick's open cases herself. She was smiling again. He had only ever wanted her to smile, since the day he met her. Now she did it on her own. She didn't need him for anything.

"Talk to me, Greg." Her voice was soft, and he visibly relaxed at its soothing sound, breaking her fragile heart. He stopped mixing the pancake batter, it was only something for his hands to do while his mind searched desperately for the conviction to hold his ground, and not let her see what she did to him. She made her way to his side, and he winced as she ran her hand along his arm.

She had done that hundreds of times, when he was too worked up over a case, when he was letting a suspect get to him, when he wanted nothing more than to crawl back into the DNA lab and pick up his old coat. Her touch had always calmed him, even when he was about to slam his locker shut, chase the guy that got away, and pummel him into the gravel.

He shook her off now, not wanting to surrender himself to the comfort she always offered, losing the fight to keep his tears at bay. He hated himself. Sara pulled her hand away, and took a step back, pursing her lips and sweeping her gaze over him as if he was a piece of evidence.

"Okay." She spoke as if she had made a decision, and she stepped away from him, running a hand through her disheveled curls, and made her way to the door. He silently cursed himself, regretting thinking about anything as she heard the door to the apartment open.

"I never wanted you to get hurt." Sara turned at his words, one foot already out in the hallway. She looked back at Greg, the tension had returned to his shoulders, and he stood, gripping the counter, with his back to her. The man she trained to be her partner, who couldn't go a minute and a half without a smile or a joke, who her daughter referred to as 'Crazy Uncle Greg' was not in the kitchen. This man here, this was a broken man, torn between his heart and his head, his passion and his reason. She shut the door behind her, stepping back into his apartment, coming to lean in the doorjamb of the kitchen.

"None of this was your fault, Greg."

"I had it all under control, Sara." Greg rubbed his eyes, and pushed the pancake batter away from him. "I beat my own feelings years ago. I thought I could handle it. I was happy for you. For Nick. I was content with being Uncle Greg, it meant I got to be a part of Lauren's life."

"Greg-"

"I'm fighting the same war all over again, Sara. I want more than anything to be able to love you like I do, and I can't be Uncle Greg when you're climbing into my bed every morning after work. At first I convinced myself that it was justified because you needed me. No, let me finish." He cut her off as she was opening her mouth to speak. "I didn't feel guilty when you needed me. It was when you started to sleep through the night that I realized _I_ needed _you_. See my dilemma?" He turned, taking a few steps away from the counter, placing his hands on his hips, and standing before her not unlike a small child with a newly trampled spirit.

"Greg-"

"Tell me what to do, Sara. I'm out of ideas. Everything I've tried has brought me to guilty, tired, and grieving. I love you, I need you, and I hate myself for it." Greg looked Sara in the eye, and realized the war with himself was over.

He had just lost.

……

A/N: sorry about the delay… poor Greg just can't take it anymore. More to come. Soon. For real this time.


	10. Chapter 10

"Don't you see, don't you see,

That the charade is over?

And all the best deceptions and clever cover story awards go to you."

-Dashboard Confessional

…

Greg stood before her not bothering to mask his feelings in a passive expression any longer. He made no motion to close the distance between them, made no attempt to voice an apology for the confession that had just slipped from his mouth. He hadn't expected sympathy, or comfort from her. He wasn't completely sure how she would react after the truth had finally come out of his mouth. But now that his well-guarded secrets hung in the space between them like a burnt marshmallow clings to a stick over a campfire, he found himself exhausted. He had spent so much energy on hiding his feelings from her happiness that once he had come clean, all he wanted to do was curl back up in bed and sleep away his adult years.

He held her gaze, but only because he feared that he'd never be able to look at her again, and he wanted to remember her as she looked right now, standing in his kitchen in one of Nick's button down shirts and her underwear, hair rumpled from sleep, her expression soft. He pursed his lips, trying to gauge her reaction, trying to relax his jaw so when she slugged him, it wouldn't break.

"That's, um. That's what's been on my mind." His eyes swept over her body, she remained still, and silent, and he nodded, as if making a decision. "Right. Well, now I feel better." He inhaled, regaining his composure, and as he stepped away from her, he felt her fingers on his arm. He stopped, and let her turn him toward her. Sara stepped closer to him, laying a palm against his cheek.

"Greg." Her voice was comforting, soft, soothing, but he winced, tears welling in his eyes. As he blinked them away, they scattered down his cheeks unceremoniously. He leaned into her touch only just, bringing his hand up to hold hers, and pressing a kiss to her palm before turning back to catch her eye, smiling.

"This is the part in my fantasy where you tell me you love me too, and then you kiss me, and I kiss you back, and I know that everything is going to be okay, because we have each other." His eyes flickered to her lips and back to her eyes, and he sighed. "But I gave up on those dreams, in favor of more professional goals."

Before he knew what was happening, she had placed her other hand at the base of his neck, gently pulling his lips to hers.

He froze at first, but she parted his lips slowly with the tip of her tongue, pulling him closer to her, and suddenly he didn't need any more encouragement. Greg laid one arm around her waist, pulling her flush against his body, taking her bottom lip with both of his own. She pulled him closer still, and he laid a gentle hand against the slight swell of her abdomen.

This kiss was different from the one they had shared hesitantly a few months back. Sara had watched as he laid his troubles out plainly, no bullshit, no dancing, and no sweetened crusts to ease the pain of starting to move on. That's all this really was, moving on. She really did love Greg, and the feel of his arms around her waist, against her stomach, it was comforting, and she was hit with an overwhelming rush of the safety he provided. Greg was safe. He would never hurt her, or leave her. He already loved her child, and he was supportive and enthusiastic about the new baby.

Greg pulled away from her, breaking their kiss, a halfway panicked, concerned expression hanging across his features. He searched her eyes for any reaction, and when she smiled softly at him, he broke into a genuine grin. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and touched his nose to hers lovingly.

"Everything's going to be okay." His voice was soft, and she smiled, humoring him.

"How can you be so sure?" He didn't answer right away, pulling her into a delicate hug. He ran a hand reassuringly along the curve of her back, and smiled into her curly hair as he felt her relax against him.

"Have a little faith. You don't have to do this alone."

Maybe everything would be okay in the end, even if she was still tripping over the jagged shards of her broken dreams. He wasn't Nick, but then again, she had always known that. With Greg, it was a different brand of love. She loved Nick deeply, loved him still. The man had given her children, built with her a family, a home, a life. She no longer glanced at the address on her bills, and thought of it as a space with which to store her belongings, but as a loving environment to nurture her children, to make the kind of memories that become cherished keepsakes in dusty photo albums. Physical evidence of a happy life.

She'd be lying through her teeth if she said she didn't love Greg, however.

A few hours later found Greg back at Nick and Sara's, keeping an eye on Lauren while Sara had left for her shift. He normally couldn't think of a better way to spend his night off than hanging out with his little niece, but after kissing Sara back hours before, all he really wanted to do was lay out on the couch and sort through his feelings.

Loving Sara had never been easy, and loving her now was no exception.

Lauren Stokes, although only five years old, was keenly aware that her Uncle Greg was not actually paying attention to their game of Chutes and Ladders. The expression across his face told her that instead, he was mulling over a serious grown up thought. Probably lots of serious grown up thoughts. After sliding her game piece up the longest ladder, and claiming her victory, she turned her full attention to the man beside her on the couch. Her dad had a saying for faces like these.

"Uncle Greg?"

"Mmhmm."

"You look like you're tryin' to cut one from the herd." Getting no response, Lauren climbed into his lap, and burrowed into the front of his hoodie. Satisfied when he wrapped an arm around her, she knew he was going to start talking, Uncle Greg, most of the time, never shut up. He always had a way of explaining serious grown up things, and making them not so serious. Or grown up. She felt Greg laugh, and felt him press a kiss to her hair.

"Not so much cutting one loose, as they're wandering away from me I guess." Greg pushed the board game over on the coffee table, and rested his socked feet on the corner, crossing one ankle over the other, and leaning back against the back of the couch. Lauren frowned. Greg's heartbeat beside her ear was steady and even, but she had a suspicion that it was broken just the same.

"Mumma and me won't wander away, Uncle Greg."

"I hope not, baby." She listened to Greg take a deep breath, and exhaled shakily before leaning his head back. She needed to talk about something happy, or he was going to cry.

"I'm not going to be the baby anymore, Tio." Lauren sighed, and Greg smiled at her use of his nickname, from when Bill Stokes had tried to teach his granddaughter Spanish.

"Your mother won't stop loving you just because the new baby is coming, Lauren." He reached around her, and brushed her dark brown bangs out of her eyes.

"She won't love me as much."

"Why's that?"

"She has to love the new baby, too."

"She's always love you, you know that."

"What if the new baby looks even more like Daddy than me?" She breathed in his smell, like soap and laundry and lemons, as she rubbed her runny nose on his hoodie.

"Let's not worry about that, because even if the new baby looks like your Dad, the new baby won't remember him, but you'll have lots of memories. You can share them with the new baby, so that the new baby will know about your Dad, too."

"Mumma said you're going to be here a lot when the baby comes."

"Well, with your Dad not here, your Mom and I decided that she's going to need some help with the new baby, so I'll be hanging around here more often." Lauren nodded, but sat up, looking Greg straight in the eye. "What, honey?" Greg loosened his grip on Nick and Sara's daughter, considering her with a concerned eye. "What's the matter?"

"I don't want you to be here more." Greg sat up, holding Lauren in his lap.

"What do you mean, baby?" She looked up at him, and shrugged. She wanted to keep his attention as long as she could, when the baby came he would be too busy with taking care of her mother and helping with the baby to notice her. Lauren frowned, suddenly ashamed. She had never wanted to hurt Uncle Greg, she loved him; but she figured that little tear that had escaped down his cheek was because his heart was broken even more.

"If you're here more, the new baby will think that you are its Daddy."

"Lauren, your mother and I decided- oh baby, don't cry." Greg wrapped his arms immediately around the tiny child, and Lauren laid her head in the crook of his neck, unable to stop her little tears. He held her tightly, stroking her dark brown hair, waiting patiently for her tears to subside. "I don't want to replace your Dad, no one can ever replace your Dad, baby."

"No. I don't want you to go."

"I'm not leaving, Lauren." Greg crinkled his brow in confusion. First she didn't want him to stay, now she didn't want him to leave.

"Like Dad. I don't want you to go like Dad." Greg sat back against the cushions of the couch, suddenly understanding what she was talking about.

"Honey, I'm not going anywhere."

"That's what Daddy said." Lauren sat up again, and brushed Greg's halfway dried tear from his cheek roughly with her little palm. Greg winced, so as not to get an eyeful of fingers, and smiled sadly at his niece. "Daddy isn't here, but Mumma is okay, because she has you. If you go like Dad, Mumma won't smile ever. She'll be sad like when Daddy died, and they won't be anybody to make her remember to be happy." Lauren laid her arms around his shoulders, and hugged him tightly. Greg tried to remain as least visibly unshaken by Lauren's observations, but she probably knew all about his insecurities, his hesitancies. She let go of him, pressing a sweet little kid kiss to his rough cheek, and giggling softly as his five o'clock shadow tickled her.

"Thanks, Lauren." He smiled softly, amazed at how she shifted the mood in a matter of seconds. She reached up and touched his hair, pushing the long wavy curls out of his eyes. He glanced up at the clock, and then back at his niece. "Time for bed. Go brush your teeth really good and I'll be up in a minute to read you a story."

"We read them all."

"I'll tell you one then."

"About Daddy?"

"Sure."

"Uncle Greg?"

"Mmhmm?"

"D'you love Mumma?" Greg turned his head, and looked Lauren straight in the eye, completely serious.

"I love her very much, baby." Lauren nodded, giving him a toothy smile.

"Okay."

Then she scampered off to the stairs, noisily making her ascent to the bathroom, running the water and brushing her teeth, leaving Greg alone in the living room, wondering when his and Sara's troubles became so utterly simple. He smiled sadly to himself, glancing at the picture of Nick and Sara that he had taken just after Lauren was born. He picked up the game pieces, tossing them into the box before folding up the board, and stowing the box under the couch. He stood, stretching, and had started to make his way upstairs when he stopped and shook his head, looking again at the photograph.

"She's definitely you're daughter, Nicky. You're not all lost."

……

A/N: apologies for the delay… and for the short chapter... I'm a jerk. Was banking on 'spellbound' for inspiration for the muse... Unfortunately that was a bust lol.


	11. Chapter 11

"They always say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself."

Andy Warhol

…

Catherine jingled the keys to the Denali, catching Greg attention as he finish filling out a report in one of the vacant workrooms. She leaned against the doorjamb and grinned at him, and he pulled the buds of his iPod out of his ears and set his pen down.

"So what are you doing for the rest of shift?"

"Twelve hours of paperwork."

"I got a 419 with unusual circs out in the middle of nowhere. I could use a hand."

"Give me three minutes to clear this stuff up and I'll meet you in the parking lot." Greg grinned widely at the older woman, tossed his reports into a pile, into a box, and made his way out, grabbing his vest and his kit before joining her in her Denali. He slid his kit into the back seat before flopping down into the passenger seat beside her.

"Thanks. I thought I was going to go nuts stuck in that room all day." Catherine merely nodded, and they drove in relative silence, Greg unaware that Catherine was trying to decide whether or not to bring up Greg and Sara's plans to move Greg into the Stokes-Sidle house before the due date for the new baby. As she merged onto I-95, and Greg settled back into the passenger seat, kicking his feet up on the dashboard, she subconsciously removed the filter from her brain to her mouth, and let the first thing that came to her mind out her mouth.

"D'you think its such a good idea?" She tightened her fingers around the steering wheel, facing the road with determination.

"What? Leaving the paperwork?"

"Moving in with Sara." She watched him out of the corner of her eye, and he shook his head, turning to look out the window at a passing car.

"I'll take 'I don't want to have this conversation' for one hundred, Alex." Greg rubbed his forehead with his palm, sighing. If only life were like _Jeopardy_.

"Nope. Sorry. Bear your soul, Sanders." Catherine smiled faintly, if he was making jokes, he couldn't be that stressed out about it.

"She needs the extra hand. She's the space between a rock and a hard place, five months along with a five year old all by herself."

"So this is all about Sara."

"And Lauren and the new baby." Greg stated flatly, and laid his elbow against the door, and his head in his hand. Catherine was startled by his tone, surprised even more that Greg had grown to be so serious since Nick's death. Crazy lab rat Greg would not have given off the distinct impression that moving in with Sara would be an arduous task. Crazy lab rat Greg would have at least smiled like a fool at the prospect of such an arrangement. This was clearly not crazy lab rat Greg sitting in the passenger seat beside her. "Mostly."

The word fell off his lip in a mumble, and she hesitated. She had been about to speak in return, pester him for information, get him to admit his feelings. She had expected him to put up a fight, to guard his heart the way he had since Sara had told him she was pregnant with Lauren. She had not expected this conversation to be this easy.

"Mostly how?" She gently pressed, chancing a glance at the younger man beside her. He frowned, unsure as how to go about putting the situation between himself and Sara into words. He hadn't actually thought about it, that much. He needed her, it was as simple as that. He had always needed her, he just hadn't realized how much.

Greg was silent for several minutes, and Catherine waited patiently for him to voice his thoughts. She suddenly wished that she had made Warrick talk to Greg, instead of claiming the youngest CSI first, leaving Sara's version of this conversation with him. Sara would have at least yelled at her, and yelling was better than the awkward silence she was getting from Greg. Lucky bastard had gotten off easy. No wonder he had just nodded sleepily. She smiled faintly, remembering that he had mumbled a 'yes dear' to her shoulder, and pulled her closer, running his hand suggestively along her hip-

"Mostly I still love her." Greg's quiet statement brought Catherine out of her thoughts of their debaucheries, and back to the issue at hand. "I can't not love her anymore." His even voice wavered only just, and had she not been driving in the middle of four lanes of traffic, at 76 miles an hour, Catherine would have pulled him into a tight embrace, with all the hopes to mend his shattered heart.

"Does she know?"

"We had an argument. Well, not really an argument. More of an unearthing of motives and a purging of guilt." He slid one sneaker down off the dashboard, stretching his leg out in front of him. "I promised myself I wasn't going to open that box, you know? But the cover flew off as soon as I looked at her. I shouldn't have turned around. I should have let her go. I opened my stupid mouth, and now I've created more troubles than Pandora herself."

"You worked it out with her, though, right?"

"With Sara, yeah. Sara and I are fine."

"But."

"I'm still hesitant about all this. I mean, I'm literally moving in on another man's family. This is like some horrible soap opera." Greg groaned, and glanced at her, smiling vaguely. "Is my life a soap opera? Have I lost my morality?"

"I hardly think caring for a friend in her time of need is immoral, Greg."

"Papa Olaf's rolling over in his grave. 'De ikke vil ha deres nabos kone.'" Greg sighed, smiling vaguely. "Not that anyone pays attention to the tenth Commandment these days."

"Is that what you're hung up about? Taking Nick's place?" She glanced at him, and frowned.

"It's hard to rationalize second place, Cath." Greg rubbed his eye childishly with his fingers. "Everyone thinks I'm taking advantage of her."

"Are you?" The words slid out before she could stop them, and Greg sat up, turning to face her fully.

"I'm going to pretend you never asked that." He slouched back down, turning towards the window. "Where the fuck is this scene?"

"Death Valley. Don't change the subject."

"What do you want from me, Cath?" He sounded tired, like an old man who wants nothing more than to listen to the ball game on his front stoop.

"I want you to be honest with yourself. What are you getting out of this move? What do you think about it? Is this the right thing for you to do for yourself?"

"I've been honest. This whole time. I love her, I've always loved her." Greg shifted his seatbelt, pulling the shoulder strap forward and inspection it with an investigator's eye. He could lie to Catherine no more than he could lie to his mother, and he was a horrible liar, anyway. "I'm okay when it's just me and her, or me and Lauren. It's the rest of the world I have trouble with."

"You and Sara."

"Yeah." He sighed, smiling again. "Every time I look at her, I- I don't know. I don't know what I'm doing, obviously. I love her. I love her so much."

"This thing between you and Sara, what's so hard to come to terms with? You're struggling, Greg."

"I'm, I'm drowning."

"What?"

"I'm just not used to it being okay to voice my feelings. I'm still not quite convinced any of this is real. I used to have all these wild fantasies about getting her in bed, and then, she knocked on my door, and all I could think about was her, not the her in my fantasies, I let those go before Lauren was born. The her that showed up at my front door with tears dried on her cheeks and eyes all bloodshot from no sleep. I'm drowning in the rush, you know? Like when it really rains, and the storm drains flood? That's how I feel for Sara. It's too much love for my storm drains, and I can't, try as I might, I can't get it under control. I'm drowning."

"You see this going fairy tale?"

"The fairy tale was lost when Nick was shot, Catherine." There was an awkward silence that hung between them briefly.

"I'm just worried about you, Greg. You can only give so selflessly for so long before it starts to wear you down."

"I know."

"So." Catherine smiled warmly at him before turning back to the road. "What did she say when you told her?" Out of the corner of her eye, she watched a smile curve the side of his lip instantly.

"She kissed me." He focused his attention on his fingers, picking at a hangnail. "It would be ungentlemanly of me to elaborate." He smiled to himself. "She told me she loved me a handful of times, but I had assumed she was only placating my feelings, rather than validating them."

"I thought you had given up on validation a long time ago."

"Me too."

"Well." She paused as she braked slightly to let a rogue merger cut in front of the Denali. "If it means anything to you, I think that Nick would have wanted his family to be taken care of."

"You giving me your blessing?"

"I'm saying that had the circumstances allowed, he would have made you promise to follow through with what you're doing now. They made you Lauren's guardian if anything should happen to the both of them, correct?"

"Yeah."

"Something did happen. So now's your chance to make good on _that_ promise." She glanced over at the younger man beside her, and he nodded.

"Thanks, Catherine."

They rode in a comfortable silence the rest of the way to the scene, both mulling over their own thoughts.

………

"Why are we moving your bed?" Warrick cocked an eyebrow at Sara, pushing the mattress out of the master bedroom. Sara, ran a hand over her abdomen, and shifted the box spring.

"Because I can't sleep on it. We're going to use Greg's bed." Warrick pulled the mattress out into the hall, and bent to take to box spring from her.

"Let me get that." He let her stand back, and pushed the box spring upright, sliding it across the floor in the same fashion as the mattress. "And you can sleep on Greg's bed?"

"Yes." Sara glanced at the floor, and pursed her lips as her gaze fell on a crumpled up tee shirt she knew belonged to Nick. She bent and picked it up off the floor, and unceremoniously tossed it in the laundry basket without looking at it. She couldn't look at it, she would lose her drive to do this. She needed this. When Greg moved in later in the week, they couldn't sleep in her and Nick's bed, and they needed the spare room for the baby. Swapping out the beds would be the best option. Putting the old bed in the finished part of the basement, within reach if she needed the comfort of the gentle slope of an indent on Nick's side, was the only thing they could think of. She missed Warrick watching her with a concerned expression as he leaned on the box spring.

"You and Greg, then."

"Yeah."

"Are you okay with that?" He took in her hesitant movements silently, unable to decide if she was uncomfortable discussing Greg, or uncomfortable being pregnant. She straightened stiffly, placing a hand on the small of her back, another on her swollen bump. He could see that she was mostly uncomfortable due to the latter, this baby was carrying larger than Lauren had, but when she met his eyes with a look of her own, he could see it was partly the topic of their conversation that had her wincing uneasily. Tears welled in her eyes, and she brushed them away quickly, not wanting to let them fall.

"I love him. I've always loved him."

"Greg? What about Nick?" Warrick frowned at his friend. What if everything she and Nicky had had was a lie? What if she had always had feelings for Greg?

"Nick, now Nick was something special, wasn't he?" Sara turned to look at the photo hung on the far wall, from their last trip to Dallas, about a year ago. Warrick glanced at it, Nick leaning casually against the wooden fencing of one of the corrals, his arm wrapped just as casually around her shoulder as she leaned against his chest.

_"Nick, stop."_

_"No body's looking." His whispers had vibrated softly against her skin, and the suggestive manner of his tone had caused a heat in her stomach._

_"There are thirty people in this backyard, Nick."_ _She hadn't fought his embrace, however, and had simply rolled her eyes as she heard shutters of an old camera snap a photo, and had felt Nick tilt his head to press a soft kiss to the underside of her jaw._

_"The secret's out, Sara, they know about us."_

_"They know about the whiskey?"_

_"Nah, I fed them a line about hopeless romantics and running out of chances."_

_"Did they bite for that?"_

_"It was a feast." Nick had looked up to watch Lauren stand on her grandfather's foot, and grab hold of his leg, riding around for a few steps before running off to play with a few of her cousins. "Sara?"_

_"Mmhmm."_

_"Are you happy? Is this all okay?" She had turned to him, catching his eye, had smiled genuinely at him._

_"I am. It is. I love you."_

_"I love you, too."_

Sara inhaled slowly, turning away from the 8x10 hanging on their wall. Her wall. The wall.

"I loved Nick. Love him. He was the perfect father, the perfect friend. My best friend." She rubbed her stomach gingerly, effectively fighting down the tears from blurring her vision. "He gave me my children, proved to me I could be a mother. A good mother." She smiled sadly at Warrick. "I love them both."

"What about Lauren? And the baby?" Warrick prodded gently, surprised that Sara hadn't started to yell at him just yet.

"They need Greg as much as I do."

"Don't use him just because he's a warm body, Sara."

"I'm going to forget you said that." Her tone was even, but he knew provoking her was the only way to get her to come clean with her relationship with Greg. Relationship? Thing… Her thing with Greg. He didn't know what it was.

"I'm only saying you need to be gentle with his feelings."

"I know."

"He loves you. Honestly, truly, utterly. You need to remember that as you decide what type of a role he's going to have in your family."

"What makes you think I don't love him back?"

"What about Nick? What about what you guys had? Where is Nick in all of this?"

"_In the damn ground_." She raised her voice only just, surprised to be buying into Warrick's bait. She knew what he was doing, but she didn't care. It had been five months. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision with a gentle burn. She swatted at the tears childishly.

"That's not what I meant."

"No, Warrick, that's exactly what you meant."

"Sara."

"He's not coming back, Warrick. He's gone. He's gone, and he left me pregnant with a five year old. All I want is to do right for them. They need Greg. I can't be their father, it's all I can do to be their mother." She ran a hand through her curly hair, and composed herself, not willing to look at Warrick. "Now. Can we switch out the beds?"

………

A/N: thanks for sticking with me on this.


	12. Chapter 12

"Family isn't about whose blood you have. It's about who you care about."

-Trey Parker and Matt Stone

…

"Justine."

"No."

"Megan."

"No."

"Esmeralda."

"You'd better be joking."

"I like Jeffery." Lauren looked up at her mother and her uncle from where she was lying on the floor, an assortment of coloring books fanned out in front of her.

"Jeffery is a boy's name, baby, we already have a boy's name, remember?"

"Oh yeah." Lauren grinned and glanced at the picture of her parents hung up on the wall. "Nick. For Dad."

"How about Anna?" Greg flipped casually through the pages of one of the baby name books that Nick and Sara had bought when they were naming Lauren.

"No." Sara frowned as she readjusted Nick's Houston Astros throw blanket around her pregnant belly. "It's _not_ a girl, I don't know why we're even bothering."

"Because it's bad luck to only have one name picked out. What if it is a girl?"

"This is not a girl, Greg." She smiled faintly, that must have been the thousandth time she had said that.

"The baby needs a name before it bursts out of you, Sara."

"The baby has a name, Greg. Because it's a boy."

"Fine, fine." Greg slouched against the other side of the couch, and Lauren got up from the floor and climbed into his lap. Sara watched as Greg held the baby name book out in front of both of them, and pressed a gentle kiss to Laurens forehead as she rested comfortably against the crook of his shoulder. They fit so easily together. Greg fit so easily in their home. Into their lives.

She had been worried, worried about how Lauren was going to react to Greg moving in, but there had been no need. Lauren had adjusted well, or as well as could be expected of an almost-six year old that had witnessed her father being fatally shot in the chest. When she tried to talk to Greg about it, Greg mentioned some heart to heart he had had with her a few weeks back, and kissed her and told her that everything was okay, he and Lauren had squared with each other.

Whatever that meant.

Clearly it worked, however, because Lauren's giggles once again had returned to the house, and in the latest drawing of her family that she created at school, she had included Greg. Sara sighed tiredly, smiling softly at her daughter and her friend. Friend? Was that really all he was? She didn't think so. There was something there, something more, that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Of course she loved him. She had always loved him. Would things have been different, had she and Nick not accidentally gotten pregnant? Probably. Not that she didn't love Nick. She did. She had. She always would. Sara's fingers went immediately to the delicate silver chain around her neck, rolling Nick's engagement ring absently between her fingers. Lauren's little voice brought her out of her thoughts.

"Mumma? Can we name the baby Princess Buttercup?" Lauren grinned mischievously at her mother, and Sara shot Greg a disapproving glance.

"No naming the baby after characters in 80s movies."

"Huh?"

"Nevermind, baby. It was worth a shot." Greg smiled, chuckling softly, running a hand through Lauren's Stokes-straight Stokes-brown hair, before turning his attention back to whatever ridiculous name Lauren was pointing to.

Sara turned back to her copy of JFS, and forensic odontology as it relates to maxillofacial pathology. With her due date fast approaching, mere weeks in the future, Grissom had put her on maternity leave, making these journal articles her only real window to forensics. She had agreed begrudgingly, but only after Greg had softly reminded her that they would be able to be together on his nights off. Like tonight. It was almost like they were a family.

Maybe they were.

She hastily wiped the tear that had begun to well in her eyes before it fell on the thin pages of the journal. She knew Greg hadn't missed it, she could feel him watching her slyly out of the corner of his eye, hiding his concern from the child in his lap. Finding that she was about as interested in forensic dentistry as she was in whether or not Luke was going to be able to destroy the Death Star and escape a fiery demise in time, she closed the journal and tossed it onto the coffee table. She glanced at the television, displaying the last few minutes of Return of the Jedi, and cringed as the baby began to kick. She shifted, rubbing where the baby was kicking firmly in an attempt to settle the _boy_ that was trying to prove to her that he was indeed a Stokes, and was indeed athletic.

"Lauren, baby, why don't you clean up your coloring books and crayons?" Greg's soft timbre resonated from the other end of the couch, and Sara smiled at the two of them, as Lauren clambered off his lap and began to pick up her art supplies that she had scattered across the floor. Greg watched Sara and Nick's daughter as she gathered up her coloring books and crayons and leaned over to accept the kiss she gave him as she marched off to deposit them in her bedroom, leaving the two adults alone.

"You alright?" His tone had shifted, and she brushed her tear away, offering him a halfhearted smile, and nodding.

"Yeah." She pushed aside the blanket, and eased herself slowly off of the cushions and onto her feet, rubbing her abdomen again. She made her way to the kitchen, maneuvering easily around his end of the couch, ruffling his unruly curls as she passed by him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He frowned at her, asking slowly, as if she was going to shut him out if he said the wrong words, made the wrong moves. He was never very good at playing ball with pregnancy emotions in general, but he waited for her to speak before pushing the issue.

"Can you get the tea from the top shelf?" She turned to him, and he acquiesced, climbing out of the sofa, and crossing the distance to the kitchen. He plucked the box of tea out of its hiding spot well above their heads, and she smiled a thanks. He leaned back against the counter and watched her put the kettle on to boil the water for tea. She would speak when she was ready, he only had to give her the time she needed to work out whatever she was battling over. She would let him in when she was ready. She had always worked things out on her own first.

The difference was that now, he was certain that she would in fact talk to him, lean on him, rely on him, take his support.

And suddenly, he realized just how much their relationship…Thing. Their thing had changed. They had changed. Everything had changed. If they didn't hold on to each other, they were both going to fall apart.

Greg's thoughts immediately traveled to the manila envelope on the kitchen table, holding the adoption papers he had applied for from the state. The papers had sat on the kitchen table, remained in the envelope, for close to a week now, neither of them willing to cross that particular bridge just yet. He had wanted to get the guardianship legalities settled before the baby came, but, as in most aspects of his life with Sara, had let her tell him when she was ready. Sara hadn't mentioned them. So again he would wait.

He was drawn out of his thoughts by Sara's hand covering his on the edge of the counter. He caught her eye, and offered her a supportive smile. Her fingers curled gently around his own, and he let her hold his hand between both of her own, turning it over in her grasp, focusing on the lines on his palm. She was hesitant, biting her bottom lip as if she wanted to speak, but was unsuccessfully searching for the right words. He leaned forward, touching her lips to hers gently, capturing her sweetly in a loving kiss, breaking away from her as the kettle whistled a few moments later.

Sara sighed, lifting the kettle off the burner as Lauren appeared at the doorjamb of the kitchen, grinning madly, bluntly interrupting them.

"Mumma? Can I watch Daddy's baseball game?" Sara glanced at the clock, realizing that it was just about time for the Astros/Dodgers game to start.

"Sure, honey. Channel 47." Lauren Stokes grinned broadly and romped her way to the sofa and switching the television on midway through the first inning from Dodger Stadium. "I really couldn't part with the baseball." She offered as an explanation to Greg, who was watching Lauren settle into her father's chair, attention rapt on the game.

"I think it's good for her. Gives her a connection to Nick that she doesn't think you or I understand."

"Little does she know, her favorite uncle knows just about as much about baseball as her father did."

"Yeah, but I'm a Mets man."

"Details." Sara joked gently, and followed him to the kitchen table, taking a seat opposite him, and focusing her attention on steeping the tea in the mug in front of her.

Greg was like this tea, seeping into the water like he seeped into her life, slowly at first, then quicker, taking over her heart, covering her with his support, his love. He had only asked to be loved back, and she had assured him that her feelings for him ran deeply. It was due to him that she had developed the habit and the taste for tea at all. Whenever she and Nick would argue, or disagree while she was pregnant with Lauren, she would seek refuge in Greg's apartment, take comfort in the tea that he always offered her, to calm her nerves. Now, here she was years later, making her own tea, remaking her home with him. The manila envelope caught her eye, and she frowned.

Greg adopting hers and Nick's children had an intimidatingly permanent way of driving home the concept that Nick was not returning. Not that she expected him to waltz in as if she was coming home from a shift. He hadn't walked over the threshold of their house in almost seven months. Sara glanced past Greg, watching as a player on Nick's team slid into second base before reaching over and picking up the manila envelope and laying it in the center of the table, between them.

Maybe, after all is said and done, the hardest part of accepting a death is filling out the paperwork.

Greg leaned on his elbows, slowly arching an eyebrow at her, studying her expression solemnly. These was the first time she had acknowledged its presence, however, never mind touch it. Perhaps this was what she was wrestling over.

"The case worker said we could take as much time as we needed." He kept his tone soft, gauging her reactions carefully. She nodded, blinking a tear away down her cheek, and gripping the warm mug with both hands.

"I loved him." Her voice was quiet, but he didn't have to strain to hear her. She smiled sadly, and glanced at the manila envelope again before meeting his gaze. "I mean, I really loved him."

"I know."

"I never thought it would come to this, you know? I never thought we'd actually make good on asking you to be guardian."

"I want to do this, Sara. Not because you asked me to, years ago. Because I love you, and I love Lauren, and both of us will fall apart if we doing have each other to lean on." He laid a hand palm up on the table, and she put her hand in his, giving his fingers a reassuring squeeze before pushing the manila envelope across the table, and pulling her hand back, sitting back in her chair.

"Okay." Her eyes welled again with fresh tears, but she determinedly blinked them away, giving a valiant effort to keeping herself together.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Greg considered her for a few moments more, taking in her weary mannerisms, her tired expression. He let out a breath, and slipped the packet of papers out of the envelope, laying them out on the table between them. Maybe this was like the glass on the counter, like ripping a band-aid off. Maybe he just needed to do it, for both of them.

Sara watched him fill out the forms in silence, resting her head in her hands on the table. When did she get so weak? When did she come to need Greg to desperately? She was still grieving, more privately than before, however. She was consciously-fold-the-socks-like-Daddy grieving, make-Nick's-favorite-dessert-more-often grieving, don't-let-your-daughter-see-you-cry grieving, still-buy-Skippy-peanut-butter-even-though-everyone-likes-Jiffy better-because-Nick-always-bought-Skippy grieving. And here they were, taking Nick's parental rights away from him. Not that he could use them anyway. Having Greg legally adopt Lauren and the baby was the logical answer. It made sense. It had reason. It was the conclusion they had come to, the only thing that would validate his move into their home, other than her own selfish, needy reasoning.

They sat there, at the kitchen table, in silence, Greg filling out paperwork, Sara watching him, signing an occasional dotted line here and there, until Lauren came padding in, taking giant steps, and stretching her little limbs as much as she could, coming to stand beside Greg.

"Hi, baby." Sara offered her daughter a smile, and Lauren returned it, flashing her a grin. Greg leaned over and pressed a kiss to Lauren's hair before turning back to the paperwork before him. "What kind of a walk was that?"

"Mumma, seventh inning stretch. I was stretching." She stated, matter-of-factly, causing both adults to chuckle.

"Who's winning?"

"The Dodgers. But it's okay. Dad's team won yesterday. They can't win all the time, they have to share." Lauren climbed around Greg's arm, and up onto his lap, leaning back against the crook of his elbow, and looking over the papers on the table. "What're you doing, Uncle Greg?"

"I am," he signed his name on yet another form, and slid it over to Sara, who signer her name as well. "I am filling out all these papers so I can sign your permission slip to go to the museum next month with school." He threw her a grin, and continued to fill out the forms around her, not bothered with her in his lap.

"But Mumma signs my permission slips." Sara opened her mouth to explain guardianship to her daughter, but Greg beat her to the punch.

"Mumma might be having the baby when you go to the museum, so I would have to sign. It's not just for permission slips, baby."

"What else?"

"If you get sick, me signing these papers means I can let the doctor give you medicine."

"Like if I get the flu?"

"Mmhmm. And years from now, if you steal a car and drive to Kansas, the police can call me and I can come and get you." At that, Lauren laughed, and rolled her eyes.

"Uncle Greg, I can't even sit in the front." Greg cocked an eyebrow at her, and feigned dramatic relief.

"Oh good. I wouldn't want to have to bail you out of the slammer." There was a gentle sparkle in his eyes that told Sara he was joking, and his lopsided grin put Lauren at ease.

"These papers will make Uncle Greg your guardian, baby." Sara started, and Lauren frowned, not understanding. "Like Daddy, but not the same." For a brief second, panic flashed through her eyes, and she turned to Greg, pushing away the hand that held the pen from the form he was filling out.

"It's okay, baby. It's not the same as Dad. I promise."

"I don't want you to be my Dad, Uncle Greg." Lauren mumbled against his shirt, and Sara barely heard her, but Greg nodded in understanding.

"I won't be. I'm still your Uncle Greg. All these papers, they are for the state. Nevada doesn't know how much I love you, so I have to tell them with all these papers."

"The baby too?"

"Yeah. Who knows, you know, the baby could turn out to be a car-thief, and that means someone would have to go all the way to Kansas to post bail." He lowered his voice, whispering in her ear. "Not Mumma, she'll be old by then." Lauren giggled, visibly relaxing.

"What are you writing?"

"Mostly my name."

"Can I write my name?"

"Sure." Greg reached behind him and grabbed a scrap piece of paper, and handed her the paper and a pencil. "Use this."

Lauren set about scribbling her name over and over on the paper that Greg had given her, and after a few minutes, she held it up for Sara to see.

"Look, Mumma, just like Uncle Greg." Sara smiled, wholly amused, and relieved that telling Lauren about the guardianship had gone so well.

Maybe everything would work out, after all.

……

A/N: Sorry this took so long. More to come. Erm, don't exactly know when.


	13. Chapter 13

"Go ahead, push your luck-

Find out how much love the world can hold."

-Dar Williams

…

Greg slouched against the back of one of the chairs in the break room, cradling a mug of steaming hot coffee, and closing his eyes for a few moments of rest before the trace results were back on one of the fibers from his case. Sara's due date was technically four days ago, and he had been reluctant to leave her, even in the care of Jillian Stokes. He was concerned about her, but he knew they needed a break from each other, him with his obsessive worrying, her with her mile-long streak of varying pregnancy mood swings. She had gone into false labor yesterday as he was getting off shift, robbing him of any opportunity he might have had for sleep while he had been off duty.

Sixteen hours later found him back in a chair in the break room, still no sleep.

"You look like shit." Greg groaned, hearing Catherine as she slid into a seat across from him. He opened one eye only just, frowning at the blonde as she came into focus.

"Thanks. It's what I was going for." Greg took a sip of the black coffee and sat up, running a hand through his hair tiredly. "Sara was having contractions as I was getting home this morning."

"She okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine. Home in bed."

"Alone? Are you nuts?" Warrick turned from the coffee maker, shooting a look at the youngest CSI.

"Nick's mom is there. The OB put her on bed rest." Greg offered the two of them a weary smile, thinking of the emotional ball of attitude Sara had been when he left for shift. "If she calls, I have to leave." He sighed, closing his eyes again. "But she hasn't called."

"Then she's okay. Don't worry, Greg, she can handle it." Catherine frowned in worry at him, accepting the steaming coffee mug Warrick set in front of her with a tired smile that he returned, before dropping a chaste kiss to her lips and slouching in the seat beside her. He rubbed a hand over his features before taking a sip of his own coffee, and cradling his head in his hand, propped up on the table with his elbow. Just thinking about Sara being in labor again brought a burning to his chest that instantly caused his eyes to water. Warrick took a deep breath, effectively fighting off any outward symptom of his surge of emotion.

A few minutes passed quietly, and Warrick glanced up at Greg, relieved the younger man was asleep in the office chair, fingers around his cell phone.

"This is hard on all of us." Catherine's soft words soothed him, and he nodded, not ready to admit defeat. "We've got to be supportive. Greg needs us. Sara needs us." Catherine watched him nod in agreement, and reached over, tangling her delicate fingers in his larger ones.

"You ever think that if Nick knew about the baby he would have fought harder?" At her silence, he drained the rest of his coffee and stood, depositing his empty mug in the sick before making his way to the door. He glanced over at Greg, peacefully sleeping in the chair at the table, before turning his attention back to Catherine. "Best let him sleep, if she's going into labor, he's not going to get another chance to rest."

She watched him disappear around the corner and out of sight, before blinking back the tears that had begun to blur her own vision. She understood that Warrick was still struggling with Greg and Sara growing closer, she knew better than anyone how hard it was for him to support them, how losing Nick weighed so heavily on his conscious she found it a miracle the man could lift himself out of bed each day at all. Nick's death had changed them all, but they were so worried about Sara, and Lauren, no one had worried about Warrick. He had preferred it that way, outwardly holding his life together, for Sara, like the rest of them, while each night he held her a little tighter, willing away his grief with wet tears against her shirt. In all her many years of loving him, she had never seen him quite so broken, so lost. It was his way of telling her how deeply his feelings ran for her, that he would let her see him cry. She pushed her coffee mug away, delicately wiping the smattering of tears that had sprung up on her embarrassingly. She stood, placing her mug beside Warrick's in the sink, before closing the distance between herself and Greg, pressing a motherly kiss to the younger man's curly hair.

"Everything's going to be okay, Greg."

She was pretty sure she was only trying to convince herself.

Five hours later, the shrill ring of Greg's cell phone cut Archie off mid-sentence, and immediately the room fell silent, as Archie and Grissom both watched Greg glance at the ID screen, and bring the phone to his ear.

"Is she okay?" Grissom sat back in the chair, frowning at Greg's half of the conversation. Archie bit his lip, finally remembering to pause the video feed from the robbery turned double homicide they were working on. Grissom would have laughed had it not been a call concerning Sara, Greg had obviously been cut off mid thought, and he could only assume Nick's mother was at her wits end. Greg smiled faintly at something she had said, before his expression hardened into solemn concern again.

"And I told her that as well." Greg rested a hand on his hip, sighing at what Nick's mother was saying on the phone. Grissom was taken aback at how weary, how old, he suddenly looked. Maybe they had been wrong to think that Greg was doing okay. Maybe playing runner-up to Nick was beginning to wear him down. Greg glanced up at them, smiling apologetically, before the voice on the other line caught his attention again. "Put her on."

"You think she's having the baby?" Archie whispered, and Grissom nodded, not taking his eyes off Greg. "This is _the_ call? Isn't he supposed to leave when he gets this call?" Archie's inquiries went unanswered as they assumed Sara picked up the receiver.

"We're not planning a home birth, Sara. Why are you not at the hospital?" Sara winced, as the all too familiar sharp pain seared through her abdomen.

"They'll only send us home again."

"I'm on my way."

"Greg. Really, I'm okay."

"No, Sara, you're not okay. You're in active labor." He heard her inhale sharply, and he ran a hand through his hair. "Another one?"

"Which one of us has done this before, genius? Me. I'm fine."

"You wait any longer that baby is going to be born in the front seat, on a stretch of Tropicana. Listen to Jill. Get in the car. I'll meet you at the hospital." There was a pause, and for a moment he was afraid she had hung up on him, until he heard her voice, smaller, shaky.

"Greg?" His heart broke instantly; she hadn't sounded like that since Nick was shot.

"What, love?" He dropped his voice to a softer, soothing tone, unashamed that he wasn't alone in the room.

"I'm sorry." He smiled, shaking his head.

"I'm not. I'll see you in twenty minutes, okay?"

"Okay. Greg?"

"What?"

"I love you." It was barely audible over the phone, she whispered it into the receiver. His eyes instantly watered, and he smiled broadly.

"I love you, too." He listened as she hung up, shutting his own phone and turning to Grissom and Archie, a two-man mixture of concern and amusement. "That was Sara." He glanced at the forgotten video feed, and then back again to his boss. "I have to go. She's, uh, she's having the baby." Grissom nodded, offering the younger man a smile.

"Goodbye, Greg." The amusement was clear in his voice, and Greg excused himself in a mumble as he made his way quickly out the door of the A/V lab and disappeared around the corner, towards the parking lot.

"You know, it's kinda funny." Archie punched in a series of codes, winding the tape back so that they could review the footage they had missed.

"What is?"

"Nick was standing right there when Sara went into labor with Lauren." Archie waved his hand in a gesture toward the other side of the counter, near where Greg had been standing.

"Was at the end of pulling a triple, I think."

"Yeah. Missed a court appearance." Archie halted the video footage, and sat back, taking in Grissom's troubled profile. "What's the matter?" Grissom seemed to snap out of his lamentful expression, and he turned to the man seated beside him.

"Nothing. Sometimes I just really miss Nick. Let's find our mystery woman on this tape shall we?" Archie took the hint, and turned back to the video feed, punching in a few sequences and sharpening the image, playing the footage.

When Greg rounded the corner to the maternity ward at Desert Palms, he grinned broadly, and picked up his pace at the sight of Jillian Stokes. Nick's mother smiled, relieved that Greg hadn't missed anything, Sara having just been admitted.

"How is she?"

"She was a little dizzy, but she's good. They're evaluating her right now. You can see her when they're finished." Jillian opened her mouth to offer an attempt to ease the tension in his shoulders, but Greg cut her off.

"Where's Lauren?"

"Lindsey Willows is picking her up from school, and Bill's on the next flight, he'll swing by Catherine's and get her on his way from the airport." Greg nodded, visibly relaxing, now that he knew where his niece was. Nick's mom fought back the surge of tears that had risen to her eyes, and she took comfort in the realization that she would be leaving her baby's baby in the care of such a compassionate man. His love her family was as good as branded on his face. "You know, my son, he loved his family. I remember when he called to tell us that Sara was pregnant with Lauren. There was amazement in his voice; I could hear his grin louder than his words. Like he couldn't believe it was happening." She paused, running a hand soothingly along his arm. "You're a good man, Greg. Sara's lucky to have you." She watched as Greg coughed out a short laugh, and smiled at her in thanks before turning his gaze to the door that stood between himself and Sara.

"I'm the lucky one."

The OB nurse ushered them in a few moments later, and Sara turned her head, seeing Greg, and smiled broadly, reaching out for him with fingers that he quickly tangled with his own, pressing a loving kiss to her forehead, and then accepting the invitation she offered, and dropped a lingering one to her lips, before mumbling a claim of affection quietly against her, making her smile again. Nick's mom didn't know if the dull pain she felt in her chest, that caught her breath, was contentment at seeing her daughter-in-law accept such support, or grieve over the simple fact that Greg was not her son. She couldn't help but overhear pieces of their quiet exchange, hanging back so that she wouldn't intrude on their moment. Greg dissolved the tension in Sara's expression, and soon her gentle laugh eased the anxiety in the room.

"Hey." Sara accepted another kiss Greg pressed to her lips, laying one hand on her pregnant belly, and the other along his unshaven jaw.

"How are you feeling?" He pulled away and quickly scanned her body for any outward signs of anything that would be causing her pain, making her smile.

"I'm okay. Where's Lauren?"

"With Lindsey, she'll be by later." Greg offered her a childish grin, the excitement over being present for the birth written cleary across his expression. "This is it, huh?"

"Yeah." She smiled back at him, amused by the sparkle in his eye, cringing at the white hot pain of a contraction, biting her lip. "Soon."

They had given her an epidural, so they passed the hours watching the contractions pass on the print outs until Sara had dilated nearly the full ten centimeters. Nick's father had made it in on the 7:30 out of Dallas, and he brought Lauren to the hospital as soon as he arrived in Vegas. Sara could hear her daughter talking excitedly all the way down the hall.

A few minutes later, Bill Stokes opened the door to Sara's room carefully, chuckling to himself as his littlest granddaughter pushed past him, making a beeline for Greg. Nick's dad watched as the younger man lifted Lauren effortlessly, placing her on his hip and wrapping one arm around her waist, supporting her weight as she bent to kiss Sara. They looked like a happy family, anxiously anticipating the arrival of their newest addition. Lauren wrapped an arm around Greg's neck, giggling softly at something he had said to her, before catching his eye, and waving him over. Bill Stokes crossed the room hesitantly, bending to kiss Sara's forehead in greeting.

"Lauren wanted to see you, and the nurses said it was okay." Bill smiled at his daughter in law, and squeezed her hand affectionately.

"I'm glad you came." Sara's voice was soft, and he picked up on her jittery nerves instantly, frowning as Sara bit her lip through the pressure of another contraction, and Nick's father glanced at the monitor and the print out indicating it was a heavy one. He reached out a hand for Lauren, and she slipped from Greg's arms obediently, taking her grandfather's hand.

"We'll be right outside, right sugar?" Lauren nodded, touching Sara's abdomen before looking at her mother with her copy of Nick's grin.

"Grampy said I could have some Chocobees." Greg laughed, and Sara frowned.

"Oh, baby, not the Chocobees."

The baby was small. Healthy, but small. The doctor seemed vaguely worried, but Sara figured it had been her apparent tendency with carrying small, coupled with the physical stress and emotional trauma of Nick's unexpected death that was responsible for the concerned expressions on the OB, mirrored in the faces of the handful of nurses. She knew they were just being polite, coming in and checking over her chart, her print outs from the monitor, asking her how she was feeling, if she needed anything. That was fine. It was when they turned to Greg and asked, in that irritatingly patronizing tone, "And how is Dad holding up?" that she really snapped. Greg had succeeded in giving an abbreviated explanation to each nurse, just in time for the shift change, and an assault of the same brand of condescending Daddy inquiries all over again.

Most pregnant women in labor make a series of angry threats to the well being of the father of their baby, in response to the physical pain of childbirth. Sara was not most women. While she had threatened a good many things during her labor with Lauren, her would-be heated words turned to tears, rolling softly down her cheeks during the labor of their second child. She gripped Greg's hand tightly, trying to let the feel of his fingers wrapped securely around hers soothe her.

The act of giving birth fell into a routine, and with each contraction, Sara wasn't thinking about the pushing, and the orders being giving by the doctor. Shut eyes, bear down, squeeze hand, deep breath, open eyes. The only problem with that, however, was each time she opened her eyes, Greg was still standing beside her, instead of Nick. She hoped that Greg wouldn't see the disappointment flare across her features. Maybe someday he'd forgive her.

Her conscious thoughts drifted to Nick, and each time she closed her eyes, she tried to picture each eyelash, each laugh line, concentrating on each piece of him, in a desperate attempt to see the whole. She wasn't thinking of Greg, or Lauren, or Nick's parents. She wasn't even thinking about the baby. In the heavy fog of sore muscles and concentrated doses of strong medications, Sara realized she was making a desperate, fleeting attempt to think Nick into the delivery, think him into standing by her side. It wasn't that she didn't want Greg, it was that she needed Nick. Sara had focused all of her attention on what she remembered of the sound of Nick's voice in her ear, the feel of his hand over hers, taking comfort greedily from her memories, that she was startled when she heard the baby cry.

It was a boy. She had been right.

The doctor and the nurses took him instantly, checking him over, their worry for him beginning to concern Sara for the first time. Greg pressed an affectionate kiss to her sweaty, matted curls, and she smiled, accepting the brief kiss he bent to give her. Her breath hitched in her throat, and she felt a sinking burning in her chest, her vision blurring immediately as she caught a glimpse of her newborn son's tiny little foot, toes curled, kicking wildly. Nick would never hear this baby cry. Never see him, never hold him as he did with Lauren.

"He's just fine, Sara. On the small side, but he's perfectly healthy." The doctor turned to give her a reassuring smile over his shoulder before turning back to the screaming newborn in front of him. Sara leaned back against the pillows, relaxing for the first time since being admitted.

"-going to go get Nick's parents, they should be here." She caught the last part of what Greg was saying to her, her attention focused across the room. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and made to leave her side, but Sara failed to loosen her grip on his fingers.

"Who's going to cut the cord?" The nurse asked awkwardly, visibly aware that the subject of paternity was a sore one with Sara.

"Greg will." Sara bit her lip, and let a smile lay at the corner of her mouth as Greg gave her an odd look before crossing the room, and following the nurse's simple instructions. She watched him grin childishly at the crying newborn, and a few moments later, Greg laid the tiny baby in Sara's arms.

She reached out for her son, cradling his tiny body carefully, blinking away the tears that blurred her vision as she bent, placing a delicate, affectionate kiss to his tiny cheek as he continued to wail, balling his tiny hands into tiny fists.

"He's beautiful." Greg's own eyes watered as he listened to Sara's voice hitch, and he sat on the edge of the bed, laying an arm across the back of the pillows, and leaning foward slightly to hold his finger beside the baby's fist, smiling as the newborn grasped onto his finger tightly after a few moments.

"You were right." Sara leaned into Greg only just, taking the comfort in the kiss he dropped in her hair.

The baby wriggled gently in Sara's arms, and Sara didn't bother holding back her emotions, wiping the damp of her tears on Greg's shirt, gasping softly as the baby opened his eyes, revealing espresso-dark irises, as he tried to focus erratically toward the ceiling.

"D'you have a name picked out, Sara?" The nurse asked softly, holding a pen to the birth certificate, ready to fill it out to her specifications. Sara glanced distractedly at the nurse, and then at Greg, who was counting fingers and toes.

"Nicholas Andrew Stokes, Jr." Greg smiled as Andy reacted to his voice, shifting his attention in his general direction. "After his father."

"Andy." Sara grinned when her son turned toward the sound of her voice, recognizing her vaguely, squinting at the bright lighting above their heads. She kissed her son's forehead again, holding the back of his head steady. "I love you so much."

Greg took a deep breath, watching the baby start to settle, his cries softening to a whimper, responding to Sara's soothing words. He felt awkward suddenly, like he really shouldn't be there. Like he didn't deserve to take care of Nick's family. Like he was imposing on an intimate moment where he didn't belong. Sara picked up on his uncertainty, and turned to meet his gaze, offering him a gentle smile. She reached up and pulled him down to her, catching him in a sweetly attentive kiss, breaking away just short of making the nurse blush.

"I love you, too, Greg." She smiled jokingly, and he nodded, thankful for her reassurance. "Nick's parents, they-"

"I'll tell them." Greg bent, pressing a kiss to Andy's tiny fingers, and Sara watched as he slipped out the door, leaving her alone with her newborn son.

It was a few hours after Andy was born that Catherine and Warrick wrapped their cases and were able to get away from the lab. Greg had called, reporting that mother and newborn were doing well. Catherine had been lucky enough to pick up the phone, and she assured the younger man that they'd be along shortly.

When Catherine cracked the door to Sara's room open, slipping inside with Warrick following behind, they found Greg alone, sitting comfortably in the rocking chair by the window, holding a small pile of blankets in his arms. He looked up at the sound of the door opening, and grinned as his friends filed in. Catherine crossed the room quickly, dropping a quick kiss to his cheek in greeting before turning to the sleeping newborn in his arms.

"Oh, Greg." Greg looked up at the older woman, chuckling softly as her eyes began to water.

"You can't tell right now, but he's got these dark, dark brown eyes." He glanced over at Warrick, relieved to see that the other man had relaxed a bit.

"Where's Sara?" Catherine suddenly noticed that Sara was not in bed. Greg watched as the sleeping newborn in his arms shifted, yawning widely, and curling up against his arm.

"She went for a walk around the floor about twenty minutes ago, said something about wanting to stretch her legs." Greg recognized that look in Catherine's eye. "D'you want to hold him?" His laughed softly as she nodded, already reaching out for Andy. Warrick watched Greg place Nick and Sara's son in Catherine's arms with a practiced ease, before vacating the rocking chair so that she could take his place. "I'm going to go catch up with Sara, make sure she's okay."

"We'll keep an eye on Andy." Warrick pulled the folding chair over beside Catherine, and threw Greg a smile, watching him slip out the door, and down the hall. When the door clicked shut behind him, Catherine leaned over, and kissed Warrick before turning back to little Andy, still sleeping in her arms, and they both watched as he shifted again, snuggling against her chest, balling his tiny fingers into a fist.

Greg made his way down the hallway, running a hand over his face, attempting to wipe the exhaustion from his features. She couldn't have gone far, women who have just given birth don't wander at a terribly fast pace. Nick's dad had taken Lauren home after she had seen the baby, but Nick's mom had stayed a bit longer, and her presence had been a brand of comfort to Sara that he just could not provide, only Jillian could convince her not to feel guilty for being happy about the baby.

Sara sat carefully down on a bench in the hallway, accepting the to-go cup of herbal tea from Nick's mother as she sat down beside her, taking a sip from her own cup. She was sore, tired, sitting tenderly on the bench, in a pair of Nick's old LVPD sweats and one of his long sleeved baseball tee shirts from college. She shifted so that she was sitting cross-legged, watching various members of the staff and patients pass by. Several minutes went by between the two women in silence, until Sara spoke.

"This is where my memories end." Nick's mother frowned at Sara, taking a sip of her coffee.

"How do you mean, love?"

"I can't remember that much about conceiving Lauren. Feelings, mostly. Feeling loved, feeling needed. The next morning feeling safe, then as the weeks progressed, feeling scared. Worried. We both knew what happened, but neither of us wanted to be the one to bring it up, call attention to it, you know?" Sara pushed a halfway curly lock out of her eye, and took a soothing sip from the warm cup in her hands. "She had started off as a mistake, but she didn't stay that way."

"Mistakes are just different kinds of blessings, Sara." Jillian studied the younger woman's features carefully.

"Being pregnant with Andy, it helped me grieve. Gave me a tangible connection to Nick. Everything was going to be okay, because a piece of him was right there, he'd never leave me." She glanced down at her postpartum curves, and tried to smile, childishly wiping the tears from her eyes with the sleeve of Nick's shirt. "Now he's really gone. Every last bit of him."

"Sara-" Her tone was light, as if she was reasoning with a child instead of an adult.

"I remember everything about conceiving Andy. The score of the game on the TV, the cases we worked earlier that day, which tee shirt Nick had been wearing. I remember his exact words in my ear, the flavor toothpaste his kisses tasted like, which lamp had been left on in the living room, that we could make out the shadow of the light from under the door." Sara took a deep breath as her voice hitched, and Jillian's heart broke as Sara tried desperately to hold herself together. "We weren't thinking. Or trying. We had been working this heinous hate crime. He looked so broken hearted, like his faith in humanity had been lost, like he had just realized that there might not be such a thing as love anymore, only lesser degrees of hate, until you reached indifference." She took another sip, letting the warm liquid wash over her tongue and down her throat. "We're scientists. Sometimes the only way to find comfort in such an abstract concept is to find comfort in its physical manifestation."

Jillian nodded, understanding. This was as much about Sara and Nick as it was about Sara and Greg.

"I love him. I love him so much, and I don't want to let him go." Jillian barely heard the whispers out of Sara's mouth, but they shattered what was left of her heart.

…

TBC

…

A/N: Sincere apologies for the delay. The ride isn't over yet. This is a monster. Or, as we say in Boston, a 'Monstah" of epic proportions. I love it lol. Thanks for sticking with me on this.


	14. Chapter 14

"True peace is not merely the absence of tension: it is the presence of justice."

Martin Luther King, Jr.

... ……

Sara paced back and forth in the observation room, staring intently at the scruffy, unshaven man seated across the table from Brass. Her curls flew wildly in every direction, and Greg frowned, seated on the back counter, getting a glimpse of the disheartened expression across her features. Neither of them had slept, really, between bringing the baby home and finally getting a break through in Nick's case. Warrick didn't look any better, shrugging off Catherine's gentle touch to seethe at the glass. Greg was suddenly glad Mike Akers was the uniform lingering by the door. Akers was a pretty strong guy; between him and Greg, they might have a chance at keeping Warrick out of the interrogation room, should the need arise. Hopefully it wouldn't, he liked his limbs attached.

"Look, I told you, I meant to shoot my wife." Greg listened to Russ Hurley's voice turn sourly metallic through the microphone. "She was sackin' it with somebody, so I followed her few months back. I figured, the guy she was talkin' to was good-lookin,' obviously she's got good taste." Sara ran a frustrated hand through her hair, irate as the suspect cocked an eyebrow, and gestured to himself, insinuating what a good catch he was. "I figured they were meeting for a little lover's rendezvous. So I fired. That guy just got in the way."

"'That guy' was a Las Vegas Criminalist. Father of two. And he was killed." Brass's voice was unwavering, quiet, and Greg shuddered, shaking off the feeling of reality.

"He was picking up his daughter from ballet class." Grissom's soft tenor had turned hard, but he remained leaning against the far wall, beside the glass. Greg wondered if it was for Grissom's sake, or the suspect's. "Your wife told us she dropped her keys. My criminalist picked them up, and handed them back." Grissom's tone was even as Brass slid a pad of paper and a pen across the table, fixing Mr. Hurley with a hard stare.

"I'll be needing your confession, followed by your John Hancock." At Hurley's blank expression, Brass slammed his fist onto the table, leaning over, a glint of fire in the whites of his eyes. _"Write."_

Greg shifted his gaze from the scene in the interrogation room to the woman before him, his heart breaking as she turned, and reached for him. He pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as hers wound snugly around his waist, her slimming hips resting comfortably against the insides of his thighs. He recognized her need for contact, and smiled faintly as she relaxed a bit into him, taking the comfort he offered, running his fingers along her shoulders and down her back. He rested his head on her mass of wavy curls, watching intently as the suspect in Nick's case became the conviction. After a few moments, Sara pulled back, offering him a smile in place of a thank you. He leaned in, brushing his lips against hers, reassuring her that his comfort was a constant, even if her world was changing. This arrest, this trial, this conviction, would bring closure. Hopefully. They would be able to move on with their life. Sara pulled away completely, offering him a teary smile. This was almost the end.

…

Six days later, the DA finally took Nick's case to court. Assistant District Attorney Jeffery Sinclair had prepared Lauren to take the stand in the event that her account of what happened the day Nick was shot would help elongate the conviction. In the end, they decided to go with Sara. Two weeks after her sixth birthday, Lauren Stokes sat on the worn pew of a pristine courtroom in the Las Vegas Courthouse, swinging her feet briskly, back and forth, in a rhythmic manner. Her dress was pretty, her favorite, pale yellow, the hem coming just to her shins. She shivered; the courtroom felt about as cold as it looked, and she could hear the air conditioning rattling softly on what was probably the highest setting. She mother was very smart, Lauren was thankful she had told her to wear her pink sweater.

She leaned companionably against her uncle beside her, rubbing her nose on the soft, fuzzy warm of the grown up sweater he was wearing. He worried her when he wore grown up clothes, dark and plain. Uncle Greg wasn't a dark and plain guy. She leaned up, glancing at him, confused at the cheerless expression on his face. It scared her. She expected her mother to be sad, but Uncle Greg, Uncle Greg being sad startled her. She was nervous. She pushed stray locks of espresso brown hair out of her eyes, and turned back to her uncle. His jaw was hard, and so was his arm against her cheek.

"Uncle Greg?"

"Everything's going to be fine, baby." She frowned. Even his voice sounded hard. She sighed, twisting around in the bench as a woman and a man entered the courtroom, briskly taking seats across the aisle from her family and all her Dad's friends that had assembled around them.

"Is that the bad man's family?" Finally she felt his arm go soft, and she wrapped her fingers around his elbow tightly. When he answered her, his voice wasn't so hard anymore.

"Everybody's got family, baby. Even the bad guys." Greg slipped his arm out from her grasp, and pulled her closer, inhaling deeply, and wrapping his arm around her tightly. They sat in silence for several minutes, and Lauren turned away from him, leaning back against him, and focused her attention on the number of uniformed police officers standing stiffly along the walls of the courtroom.

"Uncle Greg, look at the wallpaper of policemen." Greg glanced at the two or so dozen uniforms lined up pristinely, standing against the back of the room, before leaning over and pressing a kiss to her Nick Stokes hair.

"Your dad used to be a policeman, before he came to Vegas to be a criminalist. Some of those police officers used to work with him in Dallas. They came with Grampsy. Some of them are from our police station." He had seen a turn out of support in varying degrees in hearings where convictions were made in the cases where cops were gunned down. This was customarily a southern practice, and as Greg scanned the diversity in the uniforms of the officers who were not from LVPD, he was thankful that Nick's southern charm extended post mortem; it was going to help put Sara to ease.

He heard the door of the courtroom open and shut quietly, and the soft click of Sara's heels on the floor as she neared where he and Lauren were seated. He gave her a smile as her fingers grazed his shoulder, his hand out to steady her as she stepped around him and Lauren to take her seat on Lauren's far side, clutching a sleeping Andy to her chest. Greg watched as the fabric of her skirt swayed gently along with her hips, draping over her knee sophisticatedly as she sat down beside her daughter. She caught his eye over Lauren's head, and nodded toward the officers lining the walls, standing at attention.

"Dallas PD?" Her eyes had begun to shine with brimming tears, and he shifted, running a hand through Lauren's hair.

"Most of them." She nodded, turning her attention to the baby in her arms, cradling Andy carefully, and brushing his mop of curly brown hair off of his face.

An hour into the proceedings, it was the persecution's turn to call a witness. Jeff Sinclair stood, nodding politely at the judge, the honorable Peter Croft.

"Mr. Sinclair?"

"The persecution calls Sara Sidle to the stand, Your Honor." Lauren glanced up as Sara stood, handing a sleeping Andy to Nick's sister Charlotte behind them, and steeling her features before briskly making her way to the bench. Jeff had warned Sara to prepare, that he might have to call her to testify. She sat down on the stand, and pursed her lips expectantly. She glanced at the wall lined with pristinely uniformed officers and tried to relax.

"State your name, please, for the court."

"Sara Jane Sidle. S-I-D-L-E."

"What was the nature of your relationship with the decedent, Nicholas Stokes?"

"We were committed to each other."

"You have a child together, right?"

"Yes. Two, actually. Lauren, who just turned six, and Andy, who's two months old."

"What kind of father was Nick?" Jeff shoved his hands in his pockets casually, urging Sara to relax.

"Perfect. Kind, loving, attentive. He loved our daughter Lauren more than anything. Had he known about Andy, he would have loved him just as much."

"Nick didn't get to meet Andy, correct?"

"Yeah." Sara fell silent a moment, scanning quickly beyond Jeff and catching Greg's steady gaze. "Andy was conceived only a few weeks before Nick was shot."

"Did you argue?"

"No more than any other couple, I suppose."

"Work well together?"

"We had a competitively high solve rate on shift, yeah."

"Professionally, how did he contribute to the Las Vegas Crime Lab?"

"His expertise was in hair and fiber analysis, but his general empathy for victims and their families put the team in balance. There's something trusting about a thick Texas accent and a kind smile." Sara's voice wavered, and she took a deep breath before hardening to professionalism again. "The rest of us are less focused on the humanistic aspects of the job. He was an invaluable resource, and the department is hurting, both personally and professionally, without him."

"The last time you spoke to Nick, Sara, what did you say to him?" Jeff Sinclair's question was gentle, but Greg's heart broke as he watched Sara's eyes water instantly.

"I told him to get out of the lab so I could get some work done on a case."

"Did you love him?"

"Very much."

"No further questions, Your Honor." Jeff had wanted to display Nick's personality for the jury, and he took his seat, pleased with the straightforward answers Sara had provided.

"Cross?" The judge nodded to Adam Matthews, who stood up slowly, rebuttoning his suit coat primly, approaching the stand. Sara sat back, crossing one knee over the other, and running a hand through her hair, inadvertently readjusting her curls.

"Define, please, Ms. Sidle, for the court, what exactly you meant by 'committed relationship.'"

"Had a daughter together. And a son. Depended on each other. Loved each other. Lived together. Slept together. Worked together-"

"Do you always look for romantic companionship in the workplace, Ms. Sidle?"

"Objection."

"Denied."

"Answer the question, Ms. Sidle."

"No, I-"

"Let it be known to the court that Ms. Sidle made several advances towards her supervisor, Dr. Gil Grissom-"

"That was years ago-"

"How about your relationship with Gregory Sanders, also a criminalist with the Las Vegas Crime Lab?"

"Objection."

"Sustained." Adam Matthews looked for a moment like he'd lost his rhythm, and Sara said a quiet prayer of thanks that Judge Croft had stopped the train wreck madness that was this cross examination, at least for a moment. She hadn't really come to terms with their relationship yet herself, never mind report under oath a definition of their Thing. But just as soon as he stopped, he picked up again.

"What exactly were the circumstances surrounding your _commitment_ to the decedent?"

"Adam-" Sara shot Adam Matthews a glare, an inquiry as to why this was pertinent to the trial about to fall off her lips.

"Sara."

"I became pregnant." At his raised eyebrow, she wiped her tears from her eyes, clearing her vision. "Unintentionally."

"Objection."

"Denied."

"Were you married to Mr. Stokes, Ms. Sidle?"

"No."

"Had you discussed marriage?"

"No."

"In the months before his death, did Mr. Stokes seem stressed to you? Distant?"

"We were working a tough case. A series of tough cases. It was enough to stress out any criminalist. We'd been pulling a steady diet of doubles. He was really focused on the cases."

"Did he spend an excessive amount of time in the lab?"

"He wanted to be thorough. He was working six or seven hot cases. I closed them myself."

"He wasn't at home as much as he had been?"

"I guess not, no." Her tone had turned sour, and Greg fidgeted in his seat, running a hand through Lauren's hair as she leaned against him. He knew Adam Matthews fairly well in a professional manner, and he recognized the other man's predatory timbre. Oh God.

"Could it be a possibility that Mr. Stokes was beginning to be 'committed' to Mrs. Hurley?"

"Objection."

"Denied."

"I'm not even dignifying that with an answer."

"Answer the question, Ms. Sidle." Judge Croft arched a tired eyebrow at her, daring her to act otherwise.

"I don't believe so, no."

"But you will agree that he had acted increasingly distant, and consistently remained at the lab while you returned home after shift." After a moment, Sara sighed. Cornered, she answered in the affirmative.

"No further questions, Your Honor."

The rest of the trial went fairly smoothly, Judge Croft taking Mr. Matthews' antics with a grain of salt, knowing his acidic temperament. In the end, Hurley was given life without parole, his lawyer's smooth and borderline immorality buying him a seat off the mile.

At the end of the day he had caused Nick's death. Nick had been a highly trained forensics specialist, a former policeman, the youngest son of State Supreme Court Judge Bill Stokes, and a father of very young children. The last time Lauren Stokes ever say Russ Hurley, he was being led out of the court room and into lock up, awaiting transportation to Southern Desert Correctional.

She didn't feel bad for the woman sobbing loudly across the aisle. She could go and visit the man any time she wanted, and talk to him. Lauren couldn't talk to her Dad anymore. She grabbed a hold of Greg's hand, following him out of the courtroom. She heard him say something about dinner with Grampsy and Grandma. All she wanted to do was go home.

…

A/N: one more chapter. Thanks to Robyn for telling me it wasn't cheesy.


	15. Chapter 15

"And if there's one thing that I know,

it's that it's just best to let it roll."

-Secondhand Serenade

…

"Mum!" Sara hadn't even laid her foot on the inside if the threshold before Lauren was calling to her, the laughter in her voice a welcome sound on Sara's weary ears. She had heard her daughter cry all to often for a first grader. She smiled broadly as Lauren came barreling down the hall, tripping over herself from the kitchen. "Uncle Greg said you wouldn't be home until after I went to school!" Lauren all but bulldozed Sara's slight frame, knocking her mother back a step with the force of her hug. "How many bad guys did you catch?" Lauren mumbled into Sara's waist, making her mother chuckle at her enthusiasm.

"Four." Sara smiled somewhat sadly, seeing her child's uncanny resemblance to Nick for the first time in over twenty-four hours. She knelt, accepting a hug, holding her tightly for a few extra moments, until Lauren began to squirm.

"_Mum!_ The bus is here, I got to go." Lauren smashed a kiss to Sara's cheek, and scampered out the front door, calling back a good-bye to Greg, who was leaning against the corner of the counter a few feet away, wiping his hands on a dish towel. He threw her an amused smile for a greeting, and disappeared back into the kitchen as the yellow school bus pulled away, down the street. Sara dropped her bag and coat unceremoniously, before following him.

"Hey." He handed her a large ceramic mug, the thick steam wafting off the top in lazy swirls, leaning toward her casually and dropping a companionable kiss to her lips. He looked tired, despite how many time he had dismissed the idea of it as they worked their cases last night. His had wrapped a good twelve hours before hers, allowing him to spend a rare evening at home with Lauren and Andy all on his own. If she had to wager, she'd bet that Lauren loved every minute of it. Sara stared at the dark coffee in her mug, wondering just when they had become so domestic. When they had developed _routines_.

"You look terrible." His voice was soft, and she chuckled, knowing he was just telling her she needed rest. She nodded, taking a long sip from the mug he had given her, grimacing.

"This coffee tastes terrible." She remembered all too well the dull taste of decaf. "I thought we got rid of all the decaf."

"The last thing you need in your system is more caffeine." He shrugged, running a hand through his curls as he dropped a dollop of cream into his own mug. He turned to her, taking a breath to begin a conversation, but a faint cry from Andy's room upstairs halted the words in his mouth. He kissed her quickly as he moved past her. "I got it. Go to bed."

"Okay." She listened to him take to the stairs, two at a time at first, and then the last few a bit slower, stepping on each. She drained the rest of her coffee and placed the mug in the sink before following him up, and slipping into the bathroom to brush her teeth. God she was tired.

She paused, between brushing her teeth and slipping between the sheets, listening to him try to sooth Andy down from his hysteria, a few steps down the hall, before turning away and making her way to the bedroom, not wanting to intrude on an opportunity for Greg to bond with Andy.

Sara sank into the bedding comfortably, relaxing her tired muscles against the soft of the pillows and the smooth of the worn cotton sheets. She was tired, exhausted. They had had a trying week, to say the least. A few minutes later, Sara heard Greg quietly slip into their room, felt the other side of the bed dip slightly as he sat down, with her back to him, he had no reason to think that she wasn't already asleep.

She smiled as she listened to him drop his jeans, the flick of the button and the faint metallic grind of the fly, the dull thud indicating he hadn't taken his wallet out of his back pocket. He never remembered to remove it; it always ended up in the hamper. The drawer of the dresser groaned softly with heavy friction as he pulled out a pair of pajama pants, and slid it back into place in a staccato rhythm.

He crossed the room again, climbing into bed beside her, jostling the mattress only just as he pulled back the covers on his side and settled in. She listened to the quiet rustling of blankets, wondering if he was coming down with whatever was going around the lab as he coughed twice. The cool of the air that had hit her back when he disturbed the covers was warmed again as he pulled them back up. Greg twisted, reaching up and switching off the bedside lamp with a soft click, exhaling evenly, truly relaxing for the first time that day.

Sara didn't move, lying on her side, her breathing soft and even. He assumed she was already asleep. He was careful not to disturb her, knowing she hadn't really had a chance to rest at all in the last few days. Her case had been difficult, strenuous. Nick's trial had done a number on them all, as well. Normally he would roll over, up against her, pulling her body to his, snuggling into her shoulder, sleeping with an arm slung around her middle, protecting her. From what, he never thought about. The space between them was too much for him, and he rolled over now, leaning over her and pressing a soft kiss to her temple before settling back into the covers. The mattress shifted slightly under him as he lay back down against his pillow, and Sara sighed, feeling him lie flat on his back, the gentle curve of her hip the last thing he saw before closing his eyes.

"_Hey. What about this one?" Nick handed her a form, as her eyes scanned the legal material she cringed. 'Legal Guardianship in the Event of Catastrophe.'_

"_Nicky, I don't want to think about this." She handed the form back to him, sighing heavily and sitting back on the couch. _

"_It's a dangerous job, Sara. I just want to have peace of mind."_

"_You're being paranoid."_

"_No. I'm being sure." He laid a hand on her pregnant bump, feeling for a kick. The baby had been over active today, moving and kicking, and making Sara miserable. She watched his features, memories of fire ants and hopelessness scrawled across his expression. _

"_Of course. Give me the form." She spoke quietly, suddenly understanding. She touched her palm to the side of his face affectionately, curving her fingers around the back of his neck, and pulling him to her, kissing him thoroughly. He pulled away from her moments later, his breathing ragged, a charming smile on his face. _

"_So, who are we declaring?"_

"_Your brother?"_

"_He's not doing too well with his twenty year old wife."_

"_Eh. Charlotte?"_

"_Told my mother she wants to be a dancer in a chorus line on Broadway last week." _

"_Eh. Marianne?"_

"_Loser boyfriend."_

"_Justine?"_

"_Too many shotguns."_

"_Liz?"_

"_Now you're just joking." Nick sat back against the back of the couch; frowning at the forms the lawyer had given them. Recomposing their wills had turned into a huge, dramatic ordeal. "What about people in Vegas?"_

"_Like the pit boss at the Tangiers?"_

"_You're a riot." His deadpan made her laugh. "Seriously. I don't want Ned here to have to dig up his roots when he's older. I mean, he'll know Texas, yeah, but Vegas'll be his home. I just wouldn't want to take him away from that." He was somber, stoic, and she nodded, trying to keep a straight face._

"_Nicky, I don't want to name the baby after a cowboy gunslinger." He chuckled, biting back his argument that Ned Kelly was a heroic figure in his own right._

"_Darling, I don't much care what we call him, jus' as long as we can call him our own." He flashed her a smile, dropping a kiss to her belly, before turning back to the paperwork in his hands. _

"_Who you thinking?" She arched an eyebrow at him, watching him think._

"_Greg."_

"_Yeah?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_Okay."_

She bit back the urge to cry, the casual display of affection he dropped against her temple striking a chord with her. Here was this man, her good friend, who never left her side, from the minute she received the call from the ER. Almost a year later, and he had remained within an arm's reach. He loved her so deeply it seeped into his motions, his expressions, his smile.

Hearing Greg move around their bedroom had made Nick's absence blatant each morning. She was grappling for normalcy, familiarity. Like how he would crawl over her, kiss her, mumble hoarsely in her ear. With Nick, she slept easier pillowing her head on his chest, weaving a knee between his thighs, draping an arm over his abdomen. That was her normal. Her routine. His arm wrapped around her shoulders, or tangled in her hair. Kisses on her forehead. Watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest with every breath he took.

That wasn't her normalcy now, however. The routine, like the man sharing her bed, had changed. Now she listened for the thud of his jeans against the floor, the feel of the bed as it dipped under his weight on the far side. She waited for the feel of his arm pulling her body snugly against his, resting her curls along his arm, feeling his kisses against the back of her neck. The length of her body fitted securely against the length of his, his arm snaked along her stomach. She looked forward to their few moments of companionable intimacy, human contact with someone her own size, if only in sleep. At first, he had let her curl up to him, passive in their contact. Weary, she suspected, of becoming too assertive on her broken soul. But in the last few months before Andy came, when her pregnant bump began to push them physically apart, Greg had fixed it, turning her over and pulling her close.

She didn't hear Nick anymore, moving around the room. Around her life. She heard Greg, instead, filling the holes in her heart like the metal in a cavity, easing her pain, returning her to normalcy. She knew that Nick wasn't there. She didn't listen for him to open the front door. She heard him sometimes, but only in her memories, talking softly in her ear. She didn't listen for him.

She listened now, for Greg.

Sara rolled over slowly on to her stomach, turning to face the man beside her. He didn't stir, already asleep, despite her close proximity. She studied him, for a moment, fascinated in the gentle slope of his jaw, the smooth plane of his chest beneath a faded t-shirt, the lullaby of his even breathing.

A few months ago, with pregnant hormones at the fullest of their swing, he had handed her the box of Kleenex when she sneezed. His simple act made her think of all her needs that he had selflessly filled, and how she hadn't even begun to reciprocate. She had cried an apology, she just wasn't ready to give back to him. She just wasn't ready. To his credit, Greg made a crack about not wanting to induce labor, but he had understood.

He always understood.

Timidly, she reached out, now, touching the stubble along his jaw.

"Greg." Her words came out a quiet whisper. Her fingers found his hair, shifting through the disheveled curls. She smiled as he slowly opened his eyes.

"Mmsleepin, Sara." His words protested being woken up, but he rolled on to his side, and into the gap between them, touching his forehead to hers companionably, closing his eyes again, missing her somber expression. She leaned over and pressed her lips to his solidly, breaking away a few moments later. When she pulled away, she caught his gaze and held it, biting her lip nervously. Sara saw something in the dark of his eyes that she had never seen quite so dominant over all the other emotions he wore across his features.

Want.

Pure, unadulterated, affectionate want.

Her gaze flicked to his hair, pushing a stray curl out of his eyes, before returning, more confidently, to his, held steady.

"I'm ready." It was a whisper, tumbling off of the faintest of smiles, and beside her, Greg broke into a grin.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Her smile brightened softly, and he leaned into her, catching her lips in a slow kiss, heavy with even pressure, lightly asking permission. She didn't falter, letting him in, tangling her fingers into his hair, and pulling him down to her. He pushed her over gently, pressing her into the bedding. He broke their kiss, stopping himself from rolling on top of her completely, the rational part of his mind screaming at him to take this slowly. To be careful. This was beyond want. He'd wanted her since the day she'd come into his lab. It was more than that between them, though. He loved her. Adored her. Valued her. Treasured her. Needed her.

Most of all, he needed her.

He hesitated, not wanting to ruin everything between them, for once not completely trusting himself. He didn't want to battle her for dominance, or turn her vocabulary to a string of whimpers and moans, like it had happened so many times in his fantasies. He wanted to show her that it was okay to love again, he would never break her heart, never make her cry. He loved her then, and he loved her now, but he loved her differently, wholly. He remained addicted to her smile, still found her laugh infectious, read her like his dog-eared copy of _Huck Finn_.

He was terrified, though, of this last barrier. Greg fought back a laugh, trying to dismiss his own insecurities. He hadn't really thought about actually sleeping with her. Well, no. He had. He let her roll him over onto his back, running a hand along her hip and up beneath her shirt, pulling her down to him, trying not to think about what was happening between them, trying not to let on that he was nervous.

On a technical level, he was more than out of practice.

She pressed heavy kisses to his lips, not bothering with a protest as he pulled her over and against his hips, on to his lap, the hands that had been holding her son, rocking him to sleep minutes ago, now lighting sweet fires along any bare skin they could find. Her breath hitched in her throat as he sat up, dragging fully into his lap, his fingers dancing lightly along her back. She expected him to flip her, move on top of her, explore her. Venerate her. She expected him to pull her shirt over her head, ease his fingers into the waist of her pajamas. Take her, after all these years, all they'd been through, all they'd survived.

She hadn't thought he would hesitate.

Did he not want her? Clearly he did, the want sparkled in his eyes darkly, and she kissed him harder, longer. He groaned softly, and it barreled through her, reverberating along her spine and settling in a decidedly uncomfortable, heated pressure below her waist. Sara broke away from their kiss raggedly, sitting up, straddling his hips. She caught his gaze, holding it, biting her lip, already swollen from their fervent kisses. He arched an eyebrow at her, half asking her for reassurance, half daring her to strip off her tank top. The amused smile, that had graced his lip so frequently so many years ago, when he used to flirt shamelessly with her, made a halfway confident return, and she smiled smugly, lifting the thin material off her frame in one fluid motion, dropping it on the floor beside the bed.

She expected him to become preoccupied with her newly exposed skin, but his gaze only flickered over her chest and stomach before snapping back up to her eyes. He sat up, shifting her only just, dropping a slow, corporeal display of affection to the crook of her neck, causing her to wrap an arm around his shoulders, and weave her fingers into the curls in his hair. She expected him to continue down, forget, for a moment that her chest was sore, thanks to the sleeping infant in the other room, but he didn't, placing the lightest of kisses along her collarbone, instead.

He let her pull his t-shirt over his head, his hands breaking away from her sides for just a moment, hooking his arm around the small of her back as she dropped his shirt unceremoniously on top of hers. She bent, kissing him deliberately, pressing her hips against him. Sara pushed him back down against the mattress, leaning over him, not breaking their kiss. He pulled her down on top of him, arching up against her as she made short work of his pajama bottoms and boxers. His arm snaked back around her waist, and he flipped her quickly, the start of a mischievous grin playing at the corner of his mouth, with on hand, he leaned over her, claiming her mouth, making her gasp; with the other, pulling her pajamas down her legs, giving her plenty of opportunity to back out; rescind. She didn't.

He arched an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to push him off her, change her mind, tell him she wasn't ready after all. She didn't. She matched his expression, with that smug little smile that challenged him, as if she was daring him to leave his mark. Kiss her. Take her. Love her.

He already loved her. More than anything.

Her smile sobered, and she pursed her lips, searching his features for whatever was holding him back. He shook his head, dismissing her concern, but she reached up, touching the side of his face with her palm, watching him carefully. Greg leaned into her touch, closing his eyes, before dipping his head to her body, shifting down a bit and pressing a leisurely few kisses to her stomach.

She squirmed a bit, pulling a leg out from under him, resting her knee along his side, sighing softly as his five o'clock shadow tickled the skin of her abdomen. She watched the span of his shoulders, delicate muscles usually hidden in his slight frame moving and tensing casually. His curls fell a victim to gravity, tumbling forward, and brushing against her skin.

He pressed a sweet kiss to her hip, turning upward, dropping a soft kiss to the swell of her breast lightly, shifting again to catch her, asking permission and taking it. Sara ran her fingers along his shoulders, curling an errant lock of hair around her finger. She pulled away, breaking their kiss, at the feel of him against her. He froze, like he was having second thoughts, like this was too forward, like he was stopping himself from taking advantage of her.

"Greg." Her palm slid to his jaw, holding his gaze to hers steadily. "It's okay. We're okay." Her voice was soft, laced thickly with want and affection. He smiled down at her, searching her features for a no, and not finding it. When she had started to feel like she was reliving prom night, she couldn't remember.

He wanted her, for so long, so much. He'd lived this moment before, a thousand times at least, in his mind, letting his imagination surprise him with the details. Never, ever, had he been this hesitant, this analytical. What if this was all an act? What if she only said she was ready because she knew how long it had been since he had slept with anyone? What if this was her way of a thank you, and she didn't actually feel anything for him? What if he was kidding himself-

"Greg." She interrupted him, pulling him from his thoughts. He refocused on her, but she saw the crinkle of a nervous smile in the corner of his eyes. She leaned up and kissed him, taking his lower lip between both of hers, pulling gently, causing him to groan, and kiss her hard. She shifted beneath him, and finally he pushed into her, making her gasp softly against his mouth. He paused, breathing in the taste of her, regaining control over himself, before pressing another kiss to her lip. Sara arched against him, and he nearly lost it, dropping his kisses to her shoulder so she wouldn't see the tears in his eyes.

Then everything fell away.

Greg forgot about being nervous, forgot about the city outside and the sleeping baby down the hall. All he could see was Sara beneath him, moving with him, setting a rhythm, whispering his name. She ran a hand through his hair delicately, and hooked a knee around his waist, pulling him closer, making him shudder. She pushed his shoulder, and he let her roll him onto his back, maintaining their contact. His hands went to her curves, kneading her skin gently, pulling her hips against his, gaining confidence, his breathing becoming labored as she shifted, torturing him with sensations he'd forgotten he could feel.

Her lips were on his again suddenly, her hands in his hair, along his jaw. Her skin touching his pulled him to the brink of his resolve. He rolled her over again, pushing into her with more vigor, making her breath hitch in her throat, his name hanging in the air between them, in her delicate timbre. He felt her constrict around him, watched her wince, tightening her grip on his arms.

He had done that.

Made her _feel_.

That was it for him, he couldn't hold onto his carefully constructed control any longer. He pushed into her one last time, dipping his head to her shoulder, kissing the soft skin just below her ear. Her arms slipped around his shoulders, pulling him against her, feeling the strength in the muscles of his back. The same strength that had carried her from the rubble of her broken fairytale, held fast for her child when she couldn't even look Lauren in the eye.

He pulled away, propping himself up on his elbows, as their rhythm fell into a slurred cadenza, slowing to an end. He broke into a lopsided grin, leaning against her, touching his lips to hers in even, light pressure.

"We gonna be okay?" She spoke beneath him, returning his kiss in the spaces between her words. He nodded, kissing her fully again before answering.

"Everything is going to be okay, Sara." He kissed her again, pulling out of her and shifting so that he lay on his side, draping an arm casually over her waist. She rolled onto her side, facing him, leaving mere inches between them, like before, when she had woken him up. She laid her fingers along the back of his neck, twirling her fingers absently in his scraggly curls. His fingers slipped from her waist to her thigh, feeling the smooth of her skin as she hooked her leg over his hip, shifting closer. He closed his eyes, breathing her in, assaulted with the sensation of being loved. Appreciated. Needed. Wanted.

He could always identify her scent, like laundry and chamomile, lavender body wash and wintergreen tic-tacs. He leaned in, trailing gentle kisses along her neck and shoulder, listening to her breathe, taking in new scents, cataloguing them in his memory. His scientific mind told him it was pheromones, being a chemist, with a minor in anatomy and physiology. The sweet tang he had never detected on her, in all their years as friends. She smelled like December, and her smile sparkled like Christmas morning.

She rolled over on her back, pulling him with her, and he curled into her, his thigh laying over one of hers, his knee under the other. He sprawled out partly over her, careful of her chest. He sat up halfway, squinting in the rogue rays of midmorning sunlight falling unceremoniously into the room. He reached over her body, taking her hand and tangling his fingers in hers, flashing her a classic 'Crazy Uncle Greg' smile before pressing an affectionate kiss to her lips, and settling down against her.

Greg chuckled softly as she shifted against him intimately, twisting and reaching to pull the blanket over them, letting go of his fingers for a moment, then grasping on to them again as she lay back down. She stared at the ceiling, listening to his breathing, feeling it slow into restful sleep against her side.

He loved her. She knew that, had known it for years. She loved him, too, loved everything he had done, said. She loved his laugh, his smile. The consistent, gentle support and strength he had given her, selflessly. Continued to give her. Gave her children. _Their_ children, as soon as the adoption paperwork made its way through the legal system. He could never replace Nick, and she had told him that, angry and stricken with insurmountable grief. He never tried to. He pushed away the books in Lauren's room, preferring to tell her stories about her father as a prelude to a lullaby. Referenced himself as "Uncle Greg' when he spoke to Andy. She knew he loved them as if they were his own, the simple fact that they didn't share his DNA a mere detail that he didn't seem to dwell on.

He was Nick's friend, too, and he was only trying to honor what would have been the older man's wish. _Take care of my family._ Maybe they had had that conversation. Maybe they had come to that decision, years before. Sara would put money on it. Nick and Greg had had that type of understanding. Nick knew how much Greg cared for her. Probably more so than she realized.

Maybe Nick knew how much she loved Greg, too.

Sara ran her fingers along the hidden muscles in Greg's arm; feeling the safety they provided. She felt loved, appreciated, wanted. Happy.

Happy.

Happy had been something she felt with Nick. Something sacred. Something she thought she'd never feel again. The happiness snuck up on her, in the settling grip of Greg's fingers knotted with hers, in the warmth of his breath on her skin, and it scared her. Was she really happy? Could she be happy?

It wasn't the same brand of content she's had with Nick. But she had hardly expected it to be. Greg was a different man; these were different circumstances. She was a different person. This was a different kind of happy.

But she was happy.

Sara tightened her grip on the sleeping man beside her, pressing a kiss to his forehead, careful not to wake him. She sifted her fingers through his disheveled curls, closing her eyes and relaxing into his embrace, curling into him.

Nick had left a hole in her soul, left her feeling empty, alone. Slowly, Greg had filled in those gaps, loving her unconditionally, catching her when she fell, steadying her when she couldn't stop trembling. Greg had put his life on hold, his grief forgotten, to care for her and her children. He loved Lauren, even though every time he looked at her, he saw Nick. She knew it, she saw him too.

He had struggled along the way, and she would like to think that she helped him transition from the crazy uncle to the companion in her life. Her daughter's life. And her son. Her son would grow up with secondhand memories of his father, but he would know a great man. Greg was a great man, she was lucky to have him. He would be a father to her children, teaching Andy to tie his shoes, going to Lauren's soccer games. He would wrap Christmas presents in the middle of the night with her, cook dinner and make the bed with her. His toothbrush would sit beside hers on the sink.

This transition, from happiness to grief to happiness again, it had been difficult, on all of them. She had struggled with losing her partner, her husband in every sense. Her daughter had struggled with watching her father become mortal before her eyes, her memory of that day splattered with blood on the sidewalk. Her son would know Nick only in anecdotes, and photographs, he would never hear the thick of his accent. Greg had struggled with coming second to a ghost for far too long.

Greg shifted against her, tightening his grip on her in his sleep, letting out a heavy sigh against her chest, catching her attention and distracting her from her thoughts. She wouldn't have made it without him. This had been a transition she couldn't have done alone. Maybe Greg had been right.

Maybe everything _would_ be okay.

FIN.

………

A/N: Thank you so very much for sticking with me on this monster. I appreciate it. So sorry this last chapter was delayed… Greg and Sara got all awkward on me with the sex scene. (They're _never_ awkward with sex scenes, lol) Happy anniversary to Robyn, celebrating one whole year at  I had a lot of fun writing this piece, it was challenging, and emotionally draining, and intellectually consuming, and I'm so sad it's done. Please tell me what you thought of it, whether review, PM, email, or IM. I'd love to hear it. Good, bad, ugly, etc. I loved writing this, and I hope you enjoyed reading it.


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